


spark

by zimtlein



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Angst and Humor, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Feelings Realization, Identity Reveal, Idiots in Love, Misunderstandings, Slow Burn, Tinder
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-22
Updated: 2020-12-22
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:08:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 49,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27146401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zimtlein/pseuds/zimtlein
Summary: When Marinette finds Chat Noir on Tinder, she is furious. When she accidentally superlikes him, she is horrified. But that’s okay. Nothing to worry about. This won’t lead to any kind of catastrophe. Right?Right.
Relationships: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug
Comments: 361
Kudos: 564





	1. Chapter 1

“He seems … not very nice.”

“How can you tell? It’s only a photo!”

“It’s three photos. And he isn’t smiling in a single one of them.”

“But … Is it that easy to figure out someone’s personality from a few photos?” Tikki squints her eyes and leans closer. “I mean, what if he is the nicest man you would have ever met, but you didn’t give him a chance, and there you are, another opportunity for great and devastating love lost?”

Marinette groans, her face landing on her pillow. “If I were to give every single man on this app a chance, I’d have to give up my whole life to go on endless and horrible dates.”

“True that. Then what are you looking for?”

While she keeps swiping (nope, only pictures of his face, that one has something to hide – nope, pictures with cigarettes are so not attractive, thank you very much – nope, “420” in someone’s bio isn’t as funny as it sounds in their heads), Marinette gives a little shrug. “I don’t know. He should be nice. And attentive. And care for others. And, uh, preferably work very hard on every challenge that comes his way. And never give up. And – you know, only realistic expectations, that’s all.”

“Blonde and green eyes, maybe?” Tikki lilts.

Her face heats up. “No! Absolutely not! Dark hair and dark eyes, okay?”

“Sure, sure.” Tikki giggles, leaning her cheek against Marinette’s shoulder. “So, is it working? Are you, how did you put it, getting over him?”

Marinette sighs and sits up, scratching her elbow. “University will change everything, right? New faces, and new opportunities, and no Adrien …” She shrugs, looking at her phone’s display again. “Not like he’ll vanish from the face of the earth. He’s still Nino’s best friend, but … Maybe it’s time, you know.”

“Time to?”

“Time to move on.”

Marinette feels the light impact of Tikki landing on her shoulder. She can’t quite concentrate on the faces in front of her anymore, swiping mindlessly through picture after picture.

“I’m not quite sure about the concept of what humans call ‘casual dating’,” says Tikki. “But I’ve heard that in certain circumstances, it really can help.”

“Certain circumstances being that you fell in love with someone who only sees you as a friend. And who keeps repeating that. Over and over.” She brings thumb and forefinger together in a “chef’s kiss” gesture. “Best feeling ever. Enjoyed it for five years straight because it was so great.”

“Well, maybe …” Tikki points at the display. “Claude here could take your mind off things!”

Marinette rolls her eyes. “But he likes to travel.”

“So?”

“That’s code for ‘I am boring as hell, but I gotta get some booty, so there you are, I like to travel’.”

“Gotta get some booty? But he does have a booty.”

“That was an innuendo.”

“Humans and innuendos. I don’t get the appeal.”

Marinette snorts. Her sound of amusement is stopped in its tracks though. Because the next person is someone she knows. Someone she knows too well. A cheeky grin, a black mask surrounding green eyes, blonde hair falling into a handsome face –

Her thumb is still caught in its left swiping motion (thank you so very much, muscle memory), and her body is a bit too slow to catch on. Even though her brain knows it has to stop the motion in its entirety, her thumb is lagging behind, and in its utter confusion, it gets stuck in another movement. Her skin is still touching the display, and she is unable to react in time as she watches the horror unfold before her eyes.

So before she can do anything to avoid this catastrophe (ha!), she has already swiped upwards.

Upwards.

A superlike.

Her thumb stays frozen, cramping painfully. Knowing exactly what it did. Knowing what just occurred, and there she is, living through the most gruesome seconds of her life.

She just –

Shrieking wildly, she drops the phone. It tumbles off the bed with a horrifying sound. The sudden motion made Tikki fall straight from her shoulder, and with another thump, the kwami lands on the floor. Several seconds pass in which Marinette freezes to a statue, trying to process what just happened. That was a picture of Chat Noir. That _was_ Chat Noir. Chat Noir on Tinder. Chat Noir is on Tinder. Chat Noir is getting booty on Tinder.

Chat Noir shouldn’t be on Tinder.

Chat Noir – as his superhero self.

Still frozen and motionless, Marinette can hardly react when Tikki’s voice reaches her ears. “So, first off, ouch. Thanks for throwing me to the floor, Marinette. Secondly, uh, you and … You matched.”

Chat Noir matched with Marinette. Okay, all right. This is fixable. This isn’t something that should happen. She starts to sweat. Lifts her hand. Great, her hand is working. Mechanically leans over the bed, face hovering over the floor as the stares at the message on her phone.

_It’s a match!_

The corners of her mouth twitch. She superliked him. He swiped right before she did though. Which means that there is still a chance to undo all of this.

She just has to be quick about this. And smart. There, easy.

With a battle cry, she jumps at her phone, exits the screen, and goes right to her matches. Only one tap at his icon, another tap at his profile, and there, she could delete the match. Never let him know. Never let him know that she superliked him. Never happened. Out of sight, out of mind.

A little alert tells her that Chat Noir texted her.

Her heart drops.

He _knows_.

It’s over. Her life is collapsing before her. She slumps to the floor face-first. Becomes a poodle of absolute self-pity, the phone in her hands forgotten. She will never live this down. Knowing Chat Noir, she absolutely won’t. Wailing softly, she feels Tikki’s paw on her cheek.

“I’m so sorry, Marinette. This is horrible.”

“I know,” she sniffs. “This can’t be happening. I superliked him, for god’s sake!”

“I know.”

“A match alone would have been disturbing enough!”

“I know.”

“Now he thinks I’m that much of a fangirl that I’d freaking superlike him! That’s so pathetic, oh my god.”

“Absolutely.”

“At least I’m not on Tinder as Ladybug.” She sniffs again. Pauses. “I’m not on Tinder as Ladybug, because what the hell. This could compromise our identities.”

Tikki’s paw vanishes from her face. “Well, uh, I mean …”

“This – this bastard.” Slowly, Marinette arises from her ashes. Anger and fury burning her up from inside, making it so much easier to lift the phone to her face again. “So he thinks he can use his superhero identity to get some, huh? That was his goal? Using his popularity like that?”

“Maybe there’s another reason?”

“Like hell there is,” Marinette mumbles, squinting her eyes at his profile. “Puh-lease. Just look at his bio! ‘Cat always gets the cream.’ With that super gross winky smiley. Oh my god, ew, he is so icky! Does he really think someone would fall for that? Worst bio I’ve ever read!”

“Well, maybe it’s an imposter?”

“Nope. I know every single one of his photos circulating online. That isn’t one of them. No way an imposter could have gotten hold of his private pictures.”

“You know every single one of his photos?”

Marinette sharply looks up at Tikki’s amused tone. “Because I gotta make sure he isn’t doing something dumb. And there he is, doing something dumb.” She huffs a few times for good measurement. “Like I said – if he were to upload something that shouldn’t be uploaded, we would be screwed! There’s a geolocation to almost every photo on the internet, Tikki. Every photo!”

“Well, wouldn’t the location be Paris?”

“In the best case, it simply would be Paris, but knowing his luck, who knows! Maybe he’d have tagged his exact address on accident!” With an annoyed groan, she shoves the phone in Tikki’s direction. “Just look at that! Lying on his bed like some wannabe Casanova, who does he think he is? Just imagine someone finding his profile on his civilian self’s phone! This goddamn …” She quickly draws her phone back again, bringing the display as close to her face as she can. “Oh, he’s _so_ going to hear from me.”

“As Ladybug, I would assume.”

“Of course.” She waves her kwami off and goes into the chat. His first message alone makes her see red in an instant.

**Chat Noir:** hey there, purrincess. wouldn’t have thought i’d find you here of all places 😉  
**Chat Noir:** and even a superlike! this cat is feeling especially lucky tonight 😉😉  


Furious, she jumps to her feet, mumbling under her breath as she starts pacing. “This stupid, arrogant, careless …”

But yeah, she can’t let that much show. She’ll have a chance to give him hell as Ladybug later on. For now, she is Marinette, and Marinette has no idea why it would be stupid to be on Tinder as your superhero identity. Even though it should be obvious. Stupid cat.

**Marinette:** oh i’m actually so sorry, that was an accident! i didn’t mean to superlike you 🙈🙈  
**Chat Noir:** sure thing. that’s what they all say 😏  
**Chat Noir:** your secret’s safe with me. kitty promise 🐱  


Okay. Breathe in, breathe out. Don’t be absolutely annoyed by his stupid flirting. Marinette lets herself fall onto her bed again, resisting the urge to throw her phone right at Chat’s head. With a little giggle, Tikki floats down next to her, and Marinette gives her a sharp look.

“What’s so funny?”

“Oh, well.” Tikki makes a motion that seems to resemble a shrug. “I think that is what humans call ‘flirting’, right?”

“I am absolutely not flirting with Chat!”

“Your perfectly reasonable reaction really underlines your calmness.”

“Tikki, you’re not being funny.” Ignoring her kwami’s giggling, Marinette replies, her thumbs flying over the display.

**Marinette:** haha. no. i’m dead serious.  
**Marinette:** also, should you really use your superhero identity on tinder? isn’t that kind of dangerous?  
**Marinette:** just out of curiosity 🤔  
**Chat Noir:** naaaaah no worries. as long as ladybug doesn’t find out hahahha  
**Chat Noir:** she’s kind of a smartass about this tbh  


The smile on Marinette’s face is anything but sweet. It’s the most poisonous smile she can muster. If he were in front of her right now, she can guarantee that he’d drop dead within milliseconds. Max. Her thumbs are cramping as she types in a reply.

**Marinette:** oh is she! i wouldn’t have thought! she seems really dependable and reasonable to me! but what do i know haha 😊😊  
**Marinette:** who knows maybe she is on tinder too as ladybug, making it easier for people to figure out who you two really are hahahahaha  
**Marinette:** hey, question  
**Marinette:** how do you intend to find a girlfriend if your matches only get to know you as a superhero :)  
**Marinette:** they wouldn’t know who you rly are would they? 😊😊  


“Woah there,” Tikki mumbles. “You seem kind of riled up?”

“I’m.” She breathes in. Breathes out. “Not. But. Thanks.”

**Chat Noir:** aw marinette if you only knew 😉  
**Chat Noir:** and who says i’m searching for a girlfriend on here 😉  
**Chat Noir:** even though looking at your pics, i’m about to change my mind 😘  


With another squeak, she drops her phone. This time only to the bed though. Thank god. “Ew! Ew, he just sent me a smooch smiley!”

Tikki blinks heavily. “So?”

“That’s … he’s acting like …” Her voice drops down to a whisper. “He’s acting like a … like a _fuckboy_.”

“A … what?”

“Exactly!” Making a face, Marinette tries to wipe that experience from her mind. With not much luck. Her hands are shaking as she reaches for her phone again. This isn’t good. This is icky, and plain wrong, and what the hell is he thinking, flirting with her like that? Flirting like that at all?

**Marinette:** yea uh please don’t change your mind … because of me  
**Marinette:** didn’t think you’d be on here for …… that though  
**Marinette:** not that i know you too well but from what i gathered you know  


“What do you mean, ‘for that’?” Tikki leans closer, frowning.

“You know exactly what I mean.” Cheeks heating up, Marinette keeps staring at the phone, unable to add anything else to her awkward texts.

“If this is about copulation –”

“Oh my god, Tikki!”

“Then, somehow, isn’t that something very private?”

“Yes, it would be.” She pushes her phone down for a moment. “It absolutely would be, because I’m sure as hell not interested in who Chat Noir is _copulating_ with, thank you very much! But if he needs to _copulate_ that badly, he should at least have half a brain and not use his superhero identity to do so!”

Tikki nods thoughtfully. “It is a bit risky, I have to admit.”

“Thank you!” With that, Marinette wipes her head around to her phone again.

**Chat Noir:** for that, huh 🤔😏  
**Chat Noir:** what are you here for, purretty girl?  
**Marinette:** no particular reason … just  
**Marinette:** i don’t think you’ll have much luck with that cattitude of yours  
**Marinette:** i think if you were just being yourself you’d do good enough on here 😊  


“Huh,” Tikki says next to her.

Did she really just send that? She did. Is she being … nice? Nice to someone who shouldn’t be on Tinder anyway? Even flirty-nice – to _Chat Noir_? Cursing herself over and over, Marinette resists the urge to smack the phone against her forehead.

**Chat Noir:** marinette …! making my purr heart melt just like that  
**Chat Noir:** could get used to this 😻  
**Marinette:** don’t  
**Marinette:** uh. i mean sorry, but like i said, that superlike was on accident …  
**Chat Noir:** are you saying you wouldn’t have matched with me at all? lol  
**Chat Noir:** cold 🥶  


She is still angry, okay? She very much is. But there’s the Chat she usually knows again, a bit silly and just the tiniest bit endearing, and before she knows it, a smile has stolen itself onto her lips.

A smile she drops immediately. Because there is nothing to smile about.

**Marinette:** sorry …  
**Marinette:** i gotta go  
**Marinette:** was nice talking to you! 😊  
**Chat Noir:** have a very nice evening, purrincess  
**Chat Noir:** talk to you soon 😘  


“He did that again,” Tikki points out. “That smooch thing.”

Marinette groans heavily. “I know.”

“He’s also being kind of nice, I think!”

“I know.”

“Oh, and are you – you’re blushing.”

“I’m absolutely not!” With that glorious statement, Marinette drops her phone on the bed and proceeds to hide her definitely non-reddened cheeks behind one of the pillows. “Getting over Adrien doesn’t include flirting with Chat Noir, okay? Anything but!”

“Uh – okay, sure.”

She is going to tear that dumb cat a new one, she swears to god.

From up here, standing on one of Paris’s higher buildings, Ladybug can even see the place she will soon move in together with Alya. A cute little flat close to the Seine. Searching for a place was torture, but absolutely worth it. Something they dreamed of together for years on end. At least the thought of soon living with her best friend makes her calm down the slightest bit.

“Evening, my lady,” a familiar voice sounds.

And there, stripped from all her calmness once again.

She does her best to keep her breathing even and her smile not too telling as she nods at Chat Noir. “Hey there, kitten. Calm night, huh?”

“Good for us, isn’t it?” A shadow moving through the night, he comes to a halt next to her, a little smirk on his face as his eyes find hers. “Just you, and me, and a beautiful night like this before us … Romantic, right?”

He is wiggling his eyebrows, and she is slowly losing her temper, and the words slip out faster than she would have anticipated.

“Just as romantic as your Tinder openers, huh?”

Chat blinks. Ladybug blinks. For a moment, all they do is stare at each other. Seconds and seconds on end. Then she slowly realizes what she just said, and she quickly averts her gaze to not let him see anything he shouldn’t see.

All right. Can’t take that back anymore. Staying silent is an option, just not a very viable one. But she can’t just blurt out that they matched, all right? Not a great move at all. So another approach. Exactly. She prepares herself by taking a deep breath and unclenching her fists, putting all her far-away confidence into her voice.

“Yes, I know about your account. And yes, I’m absolutely not happy about it.”

“Uh …”

“Yes, ‘uh’ indeed.” She whirls her head around to him again, finding him stuck in an utterly surprised expression. “You know exactly that this isn’t only risky, but incredibly stupid! What if someone snatches away your phone and finds that account? What if that someone then knows that you are Chat Noir?”

“I mean,” Chat begins, but she interrupts him in a matter of seconds.

“What if that information gets to Hawk Moth? You know that nobody can know about our civilian identities!” She steps closer, the night’s few lights illuminating his face, making sparkles play over green irises. “If you want to get some that bad, then just use your civilian self to create a Tinder profile, for god’s sake!”

A cocked eyebrow. “Was I being inappropriate?”

“Absolutely! Acting like some thirsty –”

She shuts her mouth immediately. But it’s too late. The words are out there, and all of a sudden, they are close. Way too close. Chat looks down at her (god damn it, when did he become so tall?), a little smirk playing with his lips.

“We matched.”

Her heart is beating up to her throat. She keeps staring at him, willing herself not to give anything away. “You think I’m on Tinder?”

“You concluded that this Chat Noir on Tinder is not an imposter. Which means you must have vetted me.” The grin only grows. “No one knows me better than you do, bugaboo. Isn’t that right?”

Panic sets in. She has no idea how to evade that situation. She doesn’t know about his other matches. The only option is telling him that he matched with Marinette – and that she told Ladybug all about it. But then, it’d become easier for him to put two and two together, and that’s something she wants to avoid altogether, preferably. Should have thought about that beforehand.

“We didn’t match,” she therefore lies.

His smirk twitches. “Un _furr_ tonuately for you, I also know _you_ better than anyone, love bug.” He leans closer, narrowed eyes taking her in. “And I can tell with absolute certainty that right now, you’re lying.”

A snort escapes her. “Bold. But if you knew me that well, wouldn’t you be able to tell who I am out of all your matches?”

Oh. Oh no. Not supposed to say that. She refuses to budge, but sweat is forming on her forehead. For another few seconds, Chat stares at her, searching her face for something. When he speaks again, his voice is softer, quieter.

“Maybe I would.”

She tries to think of an answer. Finds none. Her throat is suddenly too tight, her mouth is dry. His eyes keep darting over her face, but he doesn’t come closer. Thank god. She doesn’t know what she would have done, how she could have escaped. Right now, their proximity makes her whole body shudder again and again.

“Pretty sure I would,” he adds. Solemn eyes, a calm face.

She doesn’t know what to say. She still doesn’t know what to say. It would be wrong to agree, but disagreeing would make her tongue burn, and she stays silent, looking at him.

“One guess,” he eventually whispers. “Give me one guess, and if I’m wrong, I’ll never bother you again.” A little smile. “Kitty promise.”

She releases a breath. Takes a step back, another one, until she can sit down at the roof’s edge, legs dangling down. Five years of keeping it a secret. She can’t say she never wondered. She can’t say that she never almost gave him and told him. Finally told him. But her reason won out every single time, and it left them where they are now.

Because it’s better this way. Because they don’t really have a choice, do they?

“You really think you’ll guess correctly? That it’d be that easy?” She sends him a glance as he sits down next to her.

Their shoulders don’t touch, but it’s familiar; the way both their eyes roam the view before them. Sometimes, she seriously thought about it – what it would be like to let go of Adrien and give someone a chance who adores her as much as Chat does.

She kept wondering.

“Might be a cat’s cradle, but if you really are among my 250 matches, then yes. I will.” A look at her. “Cat’s honor.”

A beat. She chokes on sharply inhaled air. “You – 250 matches?”

Chat blinks at her, his eyes innocently large. “Yeah? But I’m only talking to fifty of them.”

“Fifty? You’re talking to fifty girls right now?”

“Is that a lot?” He seems genuinely surprised, and she chokes again.

“What the hell, Chat! How can you keep that up?”

Something shifts in his expression, surprise being replaced by something more familiar. “Guess I’ve got a lot of stamina, love bug.” With the tiniest of smirks, he raises his eyebrows.

“Ew.”

“While talking to people, of course. What are you thinking about?”

“Nothing.”

“You’re blushing.”

“I’m not.” She kicks his leg. With a faux whine, he slides a bit away from her. “You’re being gross. Why not simply use your civilian self? I mean, how are you going to do it – get a girlfriend and only meet her at night as Chat Noir?”

“Like I said, nighttime is the most romantic time of day, isn’t it?”

“Again. Ew.” She rolls her eyes. “You better give me a good explanation, or else I’ll believe you’re being a careless blockhead who thinks he has no game without his superhero persona.”

When she glances at him, she sees his cat ears twitch, his face a picture of watchfulness. “You think I’d have no game?”

“Well.” Ladybug clears her throat. “I don’t know who your civilian self is, so how would I know? All I know is that you used your superhero identity to create a Tinder account.”

“I do have a reason. I could tell you.” Narrowed eyes again. A face that doesn’t speak of any amusement. Not anymore. “If you want to hear it.”

She looks at him. Feels rather than hears another snort escape her. “What, are you famous or something? Would girls only like you for your looks? Sure thing.”

Moments of unmoving silence. She starts to think it’s something she shouldn’t have said, and fear cloaks her throat until he finally releases a tiny breath, chest falling slightly.

“Yeah.” He leans back, but the feeling of nervousness stays. “Sure thing.”

She gnaws at her lower lip as she looks away. The moon is shining down on them, a bright crescent on a black sky. The back of her feet meet the cold wall again and again.

“Or maybe you hoped to find me on there,” she quips weakly.

“Honestly? Wouldn’t have thought you’re on Tinder of all places, my lady. It’s a pleasant surprise.” There’s something careful to his words, and in return, she feels her body tense.

“I never explicitly said that I am, did I?”

“Pretty sure we concluded that you are. Or are you making a cat-and-mouse game out of this?”

Even though she wants to react with annoyance, she doesn’t dare look at him. “I’m not making anything out of this. You’re being the overbearing idiot here.”

“ _Mew_ ouch. At least you stopped denying it.”

“Denying what?”

“That we did match.”

A breath. A beat. But it’s too unlikely, and naively believing in something like this would be a waste of time, and she hunches her shoulders as she looks at him, meeting eyes that seem to look right through her, to the bottom of her very being.

“All right. You get one guess,” she says, voice sounding sharper than she would have anticipated. “Who am I?”

Silence. He keeps looking at her. Watches her. He might know her, sure, but out of fifty girls, it’s impossible to pick Marinette. Even if she hoped for it, there is no way he would pick Marinette. That’s a thing for pretty, impossible daydreams, not for this reality.

And then, he grins.

“Nobody said I’d have to tell you right away.”

She stares. And stares. “Wait –”

“And if one girl just happened to stop responding after tonight, then well, thanks for the hint, bugaboo.”

“Wait, that’s not –”

“ _Fur_ get to tell me a time limit, did you? Sorry, LB. A promise is a promise.”

He dodges the kick that is sent his way, and Ladybug glares at him as he jumps to his feet with no trouble at all, making the motion seem almost too elegant. The grin on his face is still ever so present, and she curses herself for her own carelessness.

Is there a way out? She doesn’t know.

Does she want a way out? She doesn’t know.

But it’s still too unlikely. No matter how hard he tried, she knows there is no chance. She doesn’t know if that’s good, or if it’s bad, or if she feels anything at all.

So she sighs.

“One guess, Chat.” Crossing her arms, she turns back to the city before her again. “On two conditions.”

“I’m listening.”

It’s kind of cold, and she feels too lightheaded. She doesn’t want to hope for anything. So she won’t. It would have been stupid anyway. She has no time for senseless dreams. Not anymore.

“If you are wrong,” she tells him, not once looking at him, “you’re going to be a good kitty and delete your Tinder account. And you can’t ever pester me about our identities again. Ever. You hear me?”

“Loud and clear,” he responds, and he sounds more sober than she would have expected.

She can’t sleep, endless what-ifs drifting through her mind. One scenario worse than the last one. What if Chat Noir really found out? What if she should have stopped him from this stupid plan? What if she’ll be at fault for endangering everyone close to her? Her fingers are cramping around her blanket, and she is staring holes into the ceiling, and Tikki’s voice almost makes her wince.

“Let’s think logically, Marinette. Which clues did you give him?”

Her fingers keep cramping. “That I’m one of those fifty girls he’s talking to.” She lets her head droop to the side, looking into Tikki’s eyes. “Fifty! He’s – he’s so catting around!”

“Maybe he’s just very communicative?”

“Communicative my butt! Who has the time for fifty girls? What does he do in his free time? Sit around on Tinder all day?”

Tikki gives a little cough. “Maybe he has a job. A job that gives him a lot of free time.”

“Sure!” With a snort, Marinette sits up. “Let me guess, something that makes him really recognizable too? Not a comedian, I hope. If he was, he’d be broke.” She rolls her eyes. “A singer. A model. Of course.”

Tikki gives an odd-sounding laugh. “Of course!”

“And he’s oh so good-looking that girls would never like him for who he really is. How tragic! How absolutely heartbreaking!” She rolls her eyes again. “Anyway, you’re right. It’s impossible. There’s no way he would recognize me among fifty girls.” A snort. “Fifty! Gosh.”

“So.” With big eyes, Tikki looks at her. “You wouldn’t like him to know, right? Not even a little, little bit? Not even a teensy weensy bit?”

Marinette gives an indignant sound. “Of course not!”

“Sure?”

“Absolutely sure!” She leans closer. “Tikki – you and Plagg where the ones who told us to be careful, weren’t you?”

“Well,” Tikki drawls. “Yes. When you were hormonal careless teenagers. We know how hormonal teenagers act. Very unreasonably, to be precise. The kind of unreasonable that makes them think that it’s perfectly fine to use their superhero suits to climb the highest building they can find in the middle of the day and copu–”

“No. No, no, no, stop!” With more force than necessary, Marinette plants her hands firmly on her blanket. “I don’t want to hear anything about any kind of copulation anymore! Thank you very much!”

Tikki gives a little cough. “I have to admit, some hundred years ago, teenagers were much less rational than you and Chat Noir are. Your last predecessor was actually responsible for exposing her Chat Noir. She never lived that down, but then again, they started having a very intimate relationship when they turned sixteen, and –”

“Are you doing this on purpose?”

“What?” Tikki blinks a few times. “No. No. Not me.”

“Look.” To emphasize the word, Marinette uses a telling gesture by bringing both her hands down in a vertical position. “Easy. There is no way Chat Noir will find out anything, and nothing will change, and I’ll go to university and try to live a somewhat normal life, and I’ll meet the love of my life there and we’ll have two point five kids and all will be well. Right?”

“Right.”

With a groan, Marinette lets her upper body bend down until her forehead meets her blanket. She can still remember how her wall looked like some weeks ago. Full of photos of Adrien. She almost misses the familiar sight (she almost misses him), and gnawing at her lower lip, she reaches for her phone.

She shouldn’t do it. She really shouldn’t. But before she can stop herself, she has already opened Tinder and is looking at her messages. Some boys messaged her. Chat Noir didn’t. Chat Noir and his stupid profile. Chat Noir and his stupid handsome pictures. Chat Noir and his stupid pretty green eyes.

Stupid cat.

Well, like he said. If she doesn’t want him to find out, she will have to act completely contrary to how Ladybug would act. Letting go of her pride to protect both him and herself. Because he can’t help being idiotic and putting all the responsibility in her shoes. Awesome. So she takes a deep breath and texts him.

**Marinette:** hey chat! just thought i’d check in with you. for no reason at all 😊😊  
**Marinette:** how are you?  


Oh god. This is just stupid.

“You’re being very discreet,” Tikki says.

“If that was sarcasm, I won’t comment any further.”

“It totally wasn’t sarcasm. I promise. I promise this wasn’t sarcasm either.” Tikki grins broadly. “Doesn’t seem like you don’t want to talk to Chat Noir, though.”

“Listen,” Marinette mumbles, strictly ignoring her glowing cheeks. “It’s a necessity. I’m basically being a martyr here.”

“A hero, so to say? A superhero, even?”

“Ha.”

She winces violently when a sudden message pops up. The hard, rhythmical beating of her heart doesn’t mean anything though. It really, really doesn’t.

**Chat Noir:** it’s the middle of the night, purrincess! pretty girls like yourself should be fast asleep by now  
**Marinette:** well, same goes for you, doesn’t it?  
**Chat Noir:** cats are nocturnal 😽  
**Marinette:** are they? i don’t think they are …  
**Chat Noir:** smart girl  
**Chat Noir:** knew i don’t have a cat in hell’s chance of outsmarting you 🙀  


Despite herself, Marinette has to laugh, shaking her head as she stares at his message. “He’s such a dork.”

“You sound kind of affectionate.”

Marinette shuts up in an instant, staring at Tikki. With the same grin as before, her kwami stares back. Endless seconds pass by, and with a graceful snort, she whips her head around to her phone again.

**Marinette:** very funny. maybe you should go to sleep for real.  
**Chat Noir:** aw, and stop chatting with you? pity  
**Marinette:** yeah, i’m actually tired. so, uh, bye, i guess.  
**Chat Noir:** good. just be careful  
**Chat Noir:** even more beauty sleep and you’ll be too purretty to handle 🙀  
**Chat Noir:** sweet dreams 😘  


She isn’t blushing. She isn’t blushing at all. It’s just stupid. His flirting is stupid und unnecessary and with a groan, she shoves the phone away from her, burying her face underneath her blanket.

“I’m so not being affectionate,” she grumbles against the fabric, voice muffled.

“Totally not,” replies Tikki.

“Yes, totally not – stop with your sarcasm, you’re not being funny at all!”

“Sarcasm? That’s a human concept I never really quite grasped.”

“Ha ha, grandma.”

“Was that supposed to be an insult? Marinette, I’m deeply hurt.”

“You know the human concept of being hurt? Impressive.”

A scandalized gasp. “Well played, Marinette. Well played.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Marinette:** suggestion: please change your bio  
**Chat Noir:**???  
**Marinette:** i mean it  
**Marinette:** not a fan  
**Marinette:** how about something normal? yknow, not some innuendo that’s just, kinda, gross?  
**Chat Noir:** innuendo???  
**Chat Noir:** oh, marinette, what raunchy things might you be thinking about? 🤔🤔  
**Marinette:** okay. then explain “cat always gets the cream” to me  
**Marinette:** without getting gross  
**Marinette:** (please i do not need grossness right now)  
**Chat Noir:** i can’t explain a pun to you 😦 would lose all its appeal  
**Marinette:** what about your bio is a pun, exactly?  
**Marinette:** do you need the definition of a pun?  
**Marinette:** a joke exploiting the different possible meanings of a word or the fact that there are words which sound alike but have different meanings  
**Marinette:** … okay well it kinda is a pun, but it’s also ……. gross  
**Chat Noir:** copy pasting an unnecessarily long definition just for moi! i feel so honored 😻  
**Chat Noir:** well okay. i’ll explain. i’m a gentlecat, after all.  
**Chat Noir:** when a cat gets the cream, its super proud, right?  
**Marinette:** …i guess?  
**Chat Noir:** exactly the way i felt when i matched with you 😘  
**Marinette:** …  
**Chat Noir:** 😘😘😘  
**Marinette:** PLEASE change your bio  


She checks her phone once or twice (not more often than that, she swears) as she puts on some clothes, stumbling through the room until she can finally squeeze her legs into those way too tight jeans (it wasn’t her fault that they ended up tumble dried, really!). She isn’t eagerly awaiting Chat’s responses, she really isn’t, but when she checks for the fourth time, he still hasn’t texted back. So she taps his icon, bringing up his profile.

His bio changed.

_I apawlogize for clawful puns in advance._ _😼_

Stupid, dorky cat.

“You’re smiling,” Tikki helpfully points out.

And just like that, her smile dies in a matter of seconds. ”I’m not.”

“Well, technically speaking, that’s true. You aren’t anymore. But just two seconds ago …”

“Not because of Chat!”

Tikki looks at her with a little smirk. “Did I ever suggest that?”

Spluttering wildly, Marinette locks her phone and pockets it in a very non-hectic motion. “You implied it.”

“Did I? Or did you think I implied it?”

“Why do you think I thought you implied it? Right, because you did!”

“So you think I think you thought I – wait, I’m confused.”

“Good.” The phone stays in her pocket. There, over and done with. A total non-Ladybug thing to do. Because Ladybug would never help him improve his profile, right? Just another anti-clue. She is getting great at this. “I was just doing him a favor.”

With a thoughtful hum, Tikki lands on her shoulder. “You want to improve his chances on Tinder?”

“I want to avoid him finding out who Ladybug is.” Moving to the mirror, Marinette stares at Tikki, leaning closer until her breath hits her own reflection. “Me, to be precise,” she whispers.

“So the more successful he is on Tinder, the safer you are?”

“That’s the plan.”

Tikki hums again. “Excuse my lack of knowledge, but what exactly is the goal of Tinder? What determines success?”

Marinette doesn’t think too hard about it. No use in doing so. “Depends on your personal goal, I guess.”

“And Chat’s personal goal is?”

“How would I know? Ask him,” Marinette grumbles, sounding too tired for the words to really have an impact.

Tikki watches as Marinette applies mascara. Just one light layer. She never got into makeup quite as much as some of her classmates did, after all. For nights out, she usually relies on Alya, and for casual days, something like this makes do.

“I _could_ ask him,” Tikki replies.

“I know you could. It … I was just kidding.”

“Well. Wouldn’t you like to know?”

Marinette gives a heavy sigh, hides the thump her heart makes. “Not like it isn’t pretty obvious.”

“It is?”

“To any normal human being.”

“I’m not a human being.” Tikki pauses. “Ah. Touché.”

Marinette grins into the mirror. Then she gives a tiny sound. “Well, seeing as he matched with 250 girls, it doesn’t seem like he’s very, um, picky. And if he isn’t picky, it’s kind of unlikely that he is searching for, I don’t know, a soulmate. Also, he’s talking to fifty girls at once, so you can estimate the quality of his conversations.” She gives Tikki a look. “Taking all this into consideration, what’s the most plausible conclusion?”

“He’s searching for Ladybug on there. Thoroughly and properly. Looking out for any tiny clue.” Tikki looks so sure of her answer that Marinette frowns.

“How would he have known Ladybug is on Tinder before I told him?” Rolling her eyes at herself, she turns away from the mirror. “Which was admittedly stupid. Very, unbelievably stupid.”

“Maybe he didn’t know,” says Tikki, her high-pitched, enthusiastic voice directly hitting Marinette’s ear. “Maybe he only hoped for it.”

“Sure thing. If he talks to every girl like he talks to me, I doubt he has pure intentions, though.”

“Which intentions would he have instead?”

Marinette almost snorts. “Impure ones.”

“What are impure intentions?”

Groaning, Marinette starts searching through her handbag. “Tikki! You know. We’ve already gone over this!”

“I know what?” Then, Tikki sharply inhales. “Ah! You’re comparing the goal of, uh, getting booty with impureness, as the human race tends to do. Which I, the kwami of creation, cannot agree with, as creation regarding humans can only happen should they agree on the act of recreation. So I strictly reject all negative connotations.”

“Duly noted.”

“Would that make you upset? If he was on Tinder for intentions you deem impure?”

Marinette turns her head to glare at Tikki. With a very innocent expression, Tikki stares right back. They go at it for seconds.

“You’ve never been this interested in my thoughts about Chat Noir before,” says Marinette eventually. “Anything you want to tell me?”

“Tell you? Tell you what? I didn’t even see Plagg last night! I would never thoroughly discuss the whole situation with him to make bets about the most probable outcome!”

With another sigh, Marinette picks her kwami off her shoulder and puts her on the table, not even bothering to deal with the way too nervous smile Tikki shows her. “And just like that, I’m done with talking about Chat. Thank you very much.”

“Okay, I’m sorry! I’m sorry, you’re right.” Tikki floats around her face frantically. “This is something between you and Chat Noir. Or, between you and Tinder. Or, between you and your numerous matches. Or – uh – it’s something private, and I shouldn’t meddle.”

Marinette puts a hand on her hip, but can’t hold back from smiling at her kwami. “I don’t mind your meddling. You know I trust your advice. Mostly. I’m just kind of nervous, that’s all.”

“Because of that promise you and Chat Noir made?”

“Precisely.” She taps against Tikki’s forehead softly. “And I’m worried that you might think revealing our identities would be a good idea after all. Because it isn’t.”

A deep and drawn-out sigh follows. “Maybe. I just want you to be happy, Marinette.”

“And I think I would be happiest knowing that my family and friends aren’t in constant danger.”

Tikki opens her mouth. Closes it again. An odd expression crosses her face, but it’s gone too quickly to be analyzed, and all that’s left is a little smile. “All right. Then let’s do our best to deceive Chat Noir and let him pick anyone that isn’t you.”

“Why do you have to make it sound that bad?”

“It’s just the truth, right?”

“Tikki. You’re supposed to be on my side!”

“I am, though?”

“Not if you’re wording it this way.”

“Wait, what did I do wrong again?”

During Marinette’s last year of school, her schedule became busy. Between studying for her final exams and getting enough sleep, there wasn’t much time for random akumas. Or random patrolling. Still, Paris didn’t cease to be her city to protect. So she told Chat Noir to meet her every three nights instead of seeing him daily. He didn’t protest. Not once. Curiously, he looked just as tired as she felt on most days, but she stopped herself from reaching conclusions.

Is he as old as her, having had to study for his final exams at the same time she did? Who knows.

Is he older than her, having had to study for university exams? Who knows.

Or even younger, just living through that one phase in which no matter how much sleep you get, it’s never enough? Who knows.

Knowing wouldn’t have helped either, after all.

It’s one of those nights – a free night for her. As long as no akuma decides to spontaneously attack, that is. Even though after graduating, she sure would have the time to patrol as Ladybug every night again. At least until university begins. But somehow, she didn’t want to change up her schedule yet again. Somehow, she didn’t want anything to change. Somehow, the thought of everything constantly changing frightens her so much she feels shivers run down her spine. Because school is over. Because her classmates’ faces won’t greet her very morning, not anymore. Because she won’t be able to see Adrien every day. Not even every week. Not even – who knows when. But that’s how life goes, and there’s nothing she can change.

Chat’s Tinder profile states he is as old as her.

He could be lying. She hopes he does. The truth can be scarier than obliviousness. It would have changed too much. It would have meant too much. She can’t risk it. She stares at his new bio, looks through his pictures once again. She isn’t looking for clues. Because if she were, it would be over. She’d have to adjust to a new reality, one she doesn’t even know whether she’d like or not.

It’s safer this way.

A thud behind her. Marinette winces, suppressing a scream as she sharply turns around. The sun is just about to set, drenching the horizon in orange lights, and shadows fall over Chat Noir’s face as he crouches on the railing of her balcony, watching her with an expression that, for whatever reason, makes her throat constrict.

Speaking of the devil. Great.

His eyes land on the phone in her hands. Her eyes land on the phone in her hands. Another Chat grins at her from the screen. The real Chat is coming closer, wearing just the same grin, and with a shriek, she closes the app and puts her phone in her pocket.

“Hi!” Her voice is too high, and she clears her throat a few times. “Um, hi. Hi there. Hi – wait, what are you doing here?”

The grin on his lips only grows. “So, how’s my new bio?”

“Better.” She answered too quickly. Way too quickly. Her cheeks heat up. No further explanation comes to mind, nothing to save herself from this uncomfortable situation.

Chat nods a few times, and he seems way too smug for her liking. “Checked out my profile, huh?”

“Um … I did.” She doesn’t allow herself to blush. In fact, she wouldn’t even blush if she allowed herself to. Because there’s nothing to blush about. Exactly. “Just to see if you would be a smart kitty and take my advice.”

“How could I not? You’re way too clever for me. Of course I’d take your advice.”

Snorting, she turns away from him, watching the horizon instead. It’s easier to talk to him when he’s being just the slightest bit goofy, and it’s less stifling when she doesn’t have to see the spark of amusement constantly dancing through his eyes. “We don’t even know each other. How would you know I’m clever at all?”

“I can sense it through your pictures.”

She raises her eyebrows, unwittingly looking at him again. “Really.”

“Would be great if that was the case, huh?”

There’s something bitter to his tone, something too hard about the way he returns her look, and she swallows down a lump. “Yeah. Tinder is more about looks than personality, I guess.”

For some seconds, he keeps watching her with just the same unchanging expression. It’s almost starting to frighten her. But then, his face lights up again. “Good thing this cat managed to _purr_ suade you on this matter, then.”

She averts her gaze quickly. “Like I said. It was an accident.”

He snickers. “Yeah, yeah, got that. No way Marinette Dupain-Cheng would match with a stray cat like myself.”

“That’s not …” She hesitantly looks at him again, but this time, he is staring at the horizon rather than at her. There’s still the same glimmer of amusement in his eyes, but his words nevertheless leave goosebumps on her skin. “That’s not what I meant.”

“Right. I can’t be that a _paw_ lling to you. After all, I remember you did have a crush on me once.”

She gasps for air. “I – that – that’s …” A total misunderstanding. Too weird to even properly think about. Not something she can clear up without blowing her cover. With a groan, she hides her face behind her hands. “Years ago. That was years ago.”

“No worries. Over and done with. I’m just _kitten_ around.” He shifts a bit. She hears his suit crinkling, and she slowly removes her hands again without really looking at him. “You know how I know?”

“Know what?”

“That you’re wicked smart.”

Somehow, that’s a very weird compliment. One that does some strange things to her heart she doesn’t want to parse any further. “Okay – how?”

“Because of those few times you were my temporary partner during an akuma attack.”

She feels his eyes on her. She can’t help but turn her head, being met by green irises and a genuine little smile.

“The plans you came up with,” he continues, “had this kitten in serious awe. Like a second coming of Ladybug.”

Her heart drops. Her brain screams danger. Luckily for her, Chat seems to misinterpret the look she’s giving him, and he bursts into laughter as she feels terror wash over her.

“No worries! Ladybug is hardly replaceable.”

“Yeah,” she mumbles, trying to regain her ability to speak. “Pretty glad I’m just plain ole’ Marinette.”

“ _Just_ plain ole’ Marinette? You are _the_ Marinette.”

“I have no idea what that is supposed to mean.”

“Exactly what I said.”

This time, she meets Chat’s gaze head-on. A few seconds pass, neither of them looking away. Marinette tries to read his expression, tries to understand just what exactly he means – if he is kidding yet again, or in case that he isn’t, just what exactly he is trying to say. But the ghost of a smile doesn’t tell her anything, and she eventually gives up, her eyes finding the setting sun again. Oranges and pinks, countless clouds grazing the sky. Long, deep shadows all around them. An early autumn breeze travelling over her skin.

“What are you doing here, really?” she asks to break the silence, and the next words escape her faster than she anticipated, leaving them unfiltered and exposed. “Don’t tell me you’re visiting every single one of your matches to determine if – uh, to see – to get to – to –” Her brain goes into panic mode as she trips over more and more words, and she can’t stop herself from finally finishing her fragmented sentence. “To smooch?”

Oh god.

Stubbornly, she stares at the sky. Clenches her jaw. Holds herself back from emitting an even greater word vomit. This is bad enough. This is really bad.

“To smooch,” she hears him repeat.

Oh god. Oh god, please get her out of this situation. Please just have him miraculously forget all about her clumsy almost-spill. Please –

“You think that’s why I’m here? To smooch?”

She feels her fingers twitch. She doesn’t think about it. No, she won’t go there. She doesn’t think about what exactly would happen if that _was_ his goal. Nope. No. Just no. “How would I know? I mean – I have no idea why you’re on Tinder. You never told me. So, no way for me to know, right? And judging by your bio – and by your photos – stop laughing, I mean it!”

“Is that why you are on Tinder?” His voice is closer now, and her body reacts faster than her mind, turning to face him and almost wincing back at the sudden proximity. Chat’s eyes carry the same amusement as before. Her heart hammers in her chest, her palms become clammy. She isn’t scared of him – she never would be – but her breathing still quickens. “To _smooch_?”

“Just for your information, and not that it’s any of your business, but no, it isn’t,” she mumbles.

“Ah, I remember now. You’re on Tinder for _no particular reason_.”

Her cheeks are way too hot. God damn it, bodily reactions. “So?”

He hums. Seems to search her face for something. She isn’t sure if he finds it, but she sure isn’t about to back down from this. Unmoving seconds pass. She hopes to god he can’t read any kind of truth right from her eyes, and her fingers restlessly start to twitch.

But then, the moment finally ends. With the same grin as before, he leans away again, jumping off the railing in one swift movement. He doesn’t come closer, instead leaning against the metallic rods, his back to the already darkened horizon. She’s incredibly glad there’s some distance between them.

“I’m not on Tinder to _smooch,_ ” he replies.

Her instincts tell her to react with sarcasm. Instead, she finds herself unable to utter a single word as the sobriety of his voice hits her. Silently, she waits for him to continue.

“I just … I don’t know.” He sighs. “By now, it feels like herding cats.”

She glances at him. Only quickly, only inconspicuously. “Why? Because you have 250 matches?” She freezes. “Or 300? 400? Or, I don’t even know, 500?”

He doesn’t look at her. She’s glad he can’t see the panic in her eyes. “First guess wins.”

“250 matches,” she mumbles, shaking her head to distract herself from the way her heart is wildly pounding. Stupid mouth and its stupid habit to almost expose her.

“You’re not the first one to tell me that’s way too many.”

“Yeah, well. Sounds like you swipe right on about anyone.”

She sounded way too harsh even in her own ears, but before she can apologize, she can hear a deep sigh. Then he wails softly. “But if they swipe right on me and I never match with them, they will know I never swiped right on them in return, right? And then they’ll feel rejected, especially girls who superliked me, and then? Then I’m a horrible heartbreaker, aren’t I?”

Marinette almost snorts at the absurdity, and she is absolutely sure he is joking around until she takes a proper look at him. There’s something genuinely upset about his expression, something even helpless. For a moment, she is unable to speak.

“You have to be kidding,” she eventually brings out.

“Yes, I was called stupid before for doing this, but I’d feel bad otherwise! Just imagine how those girls would feel!”

She sharply lifts a hand to make him shut up. “Let me get this straight. You indiscriminately swipe right on every single girl so you don’t have to feel bad?”

“Not on every girl!” By now, Chat has fully turned to her, emphasizing his words by broad gestures. “Just the ones who, uh, seem like they’d swipe right on me.”

Marinette drops her hand. “You think I’m one of those girls?”

“Now that I know better –”

“Are you seriously telling me that you matched with those girls out of pity?” she whispers, eye growing wide. “That you swiped right on _me_ out of pity?”

“No! No. No, listen.” His hands are suddenly on her arms, and Marinette keeps staring at him, not feeling an ounce of pity as she recognizes the desperation on his face. “It’s the other way around. Okay? It’s hilariously pathetic, but …” With a sigh, he lets his head hang low. “I was more than sure I’d get no match at all, and when I did, it was – I didn’t expect that many. Maybe one or two if I was unbelievably lucky, but … Seriously, I was out of my depth. I still am, to be honest. So …”

She gives a sharp laugh. “You were sure you wouldn’t get any matches? Right.”

From underneath his lashes, he glances at her. She recognizes that look of embarrassment. It’s odd to see Chat like this, and it’s odd to realize, ever so slowly, that he isn’t just joking around. The implication is too far-fetched, too much to really process. Their eyes only stay locked for a second before Chat lets go of her again, turning away until his back is on her, lungs expanding with his breaths.

“But like you said,” he continues. “None of them really know me, how could they? None of them would swipe right because of _me_ , but because of my status, right?”

Well, he isn’t wrong. But telling him so would have been too harsh, and Marinette bites her lip, torn between wanting to comfort him and confirm what an absolute reckless idea that was. Anger is easier; anger hinders her from thinking about the glaring why, from reflecting her own role in this.

So she doesn’t say anything.

His leathery faux tail moves from left to right, right to left. A distressed cat. They should be adults by now – according to the age on his profile, at least – and she is oddly reminded of a stumbling disoriented teenager trying to figure out the most mundane things in life.

Not that she fares any better.

“I don’t get it,” she confesses, partially the truth, partially a way to distract herself from the many thoughts clouding her mind.

His tail keeps moving. Left, right, left, right, while his body remains an unmoving shadow, only blonde hair reflecting silvery moonlight.

“There’s this girl,” he eventually says, and she almost doesn’t want to hear it, almost wants to turn away. “No matter what I did, no matter what I tried – nothing ever worked. Being myself never worked.”

Marinette’s heart is beating too hard. She has to close her eyes for a moment. “So you tried to get over her?”

“So I …” He laughs coldly. “So I went to see if she’s right. If no matter what I do, it’s no use.”

He didn’t say it out loud. But it hurts just the same. And the worst thing is, she can’t do anything. Can’t tell him that’s never what she intended. That she might not love him the way he wants her to, but that she loves him nevertheless in her own way. He is her partner. The person she trusts most. It tears at her heart, but she doesn’t dare step forward, doesn’t dare touch him.

“Chat. You are … you …” She takes a breath. Collects her thoughts. “See? There are at least 250 girls just waiting to date you. Looks or not. I bet at least half of them would like you for who you are.”

She can almost hear the smile dripping from his words. “That’s sweet.”

“It’s the truth.”

“She’s one of those 250 girls who matched with me.”

And that’s something she totally forgot about. She almost winces back when Chat turns around to her again. His arms are crossed, and even though there is nothing too scrutinizing about his look, she feels cold sweat form on her forehead.

She can’t think like Ladybug. She has to think like an uninvolved third party. Someone oblivious, someone even naïve. She can’t let all her concerns show. At least not now.

So she tilts her head and smiles shakily, giving herself some stability by crossing her arms too. “Well – isn’t that good news? So she _is_ willing to date you!”

Chat gives a sound, then scratches his chin. “I don’t think so. I think she tried to see what I’m up to.”

“Oh, really?” Marinette replies, unable to look at his eyes any longer. Instead, she stares at her fingernails. “Or maybe you two matched on accident?”

Oh god. Stupid mouth. Stupid inability to think before she speaks.

“Just like me?” she peeps in a horrible attempt to save herself.

Wow. Not helpful. Not helpful at all.

She keeps staring at her nails. Doesn’t let anything show. No nervousness. No near heart attack. Ladybug would never be stupid enough to give him such direct clues anyway. All good! All good.

“Yep, would make two of you,” Chat replies, a light-hearted undertone coloring his voice once again. “Seems I’m not as _fur_ tunate as I thought, huh?”

And just like that, the danger is evaded. She thinks. It’s the sole reason she’s able to lift her head, meeting his eyes again. Not one single hint of suspicion. A relieved breath leaves her lips before she replies. “Who knows. You’ll have to ask her.”

“Yep. Just one problem.” With two little steps, he’s at the railing again. It’s dark and cold, but Marinette’s heart hammers too forcefully for her to shiver in the chilly breeze. “I don’t know who she really is.”

Unsuspecting, naïve third party, Marinette reminds herself. She stays frozen in place. “You tried to go out with her before, but you don’t know who she really is? I don’t get it.”

For a moment, she tries to think about what to do if he were to expose her. Ladybug, that is. If he told Marinette that she is the one this is all about, and if he’d give her clear hints to figure out who is behind the mask. It wouldn’t take much – Ladybug’s civilian self is on Tinder, and Ladybug’s civilian self matched with Chat Noir. It’s enough information to be dangerous. It’s information that Chat should never let anyone know. It’s information that could easily reach Hawk Moth, and everything would be over in an instant.

She doesn’t know what she would do if her trust was broken just like that.

But Chat’s smile is small and sad, and it was stupid to ever doubt him in the first place. “Let’s just say it’s complicated. I _know_ her. I just don’t know what she looks like. That’s all.”

“Like, uh, someone you met on the internet?”

She can understand the shimmer of amusement in his eyes. “Something like that. She’d kill me if I tittle-tattled any more than that, so I’ll better quit purring.”

Marinette can’t help but stare at him. “And if she turned out to be not your type at all?”

“Type?” he repeats. “Who cares what she looks like? It’s who she is. That’s the girl I fell for.”

Her heart makes a heavy thump, jumps up to her throat. He looks so genuine. No other boy ever said something similar to her, and she doubts it will ever happen again. It’s becoming harder to stand the pure adoration in his eyes that is somehow directed at her, and somehow it isn’t, and she lets out a small breath. “So the exact opposite of all the girls matching you? That’s almost ironic.”

He smiles at her weakly. “Ironic sounds about right.”

Her heart aches in return. Ironic, or unfair, or just plain sad. Everything of the above. And there’s nothing she can do to help him. With a sigh, she turns back to the dark sky, searching for stars that are swallowed by Paris’s nightly clouds. “Why are you telling me all of this?”

“Good question.” His ears twitch. “Because you don’t expect anything from me, maybe?”

Marinette frowns at the night’s shadows. “Of course I don’t.”

“See. We only matched on accident. You don’t expect anything from me. I don’t expect anything from you.” From the corners of her eyes, she sees him shrug. “You feel safe.”

Because Ladybug doesn’t. She understands. Just as Adrien is confusion and nervousness. Not a place to call home. Maybe he could have been. Maybe, if chances weren’t lost and time wouldn’t have gone by too fast. Maybe then.

Safe, she thinks. Safe. She doesn’t really know the meaning of safe, and she leans onto the railing next to him, not quite close enough to touch him.

“She offered me a chance,” he goes on. “If I find out who she is on Tinder, I can meet her for real.”

The way he refers to all of this, like a chance of his lifetime, makes knots form in Marinette’s stomach.

“Pretty sure she only did it because she knew I’d mess up.”

He isn’t wrong, though. His words, spoken in such a cheery tone, make her shiver. “That would be a bit cruel.”

Next to her, he shrugs. She rather hears than sees it. Cruel, she keeps repeating in her head. Cruel – but does she have a choice?

Not really.

“So, do you think you’ll mess up?” she asks.

“Yeah.”

He didn’t even hesitate. She doesn’t know how to feel. “I thought you know her well?”

“Well enough to know she’ll do anything in her power to make me mess up.”

“Mean.”

“She has her reasons.”

“Understandable ones?”

“Yes. No. I …” A deep sigh. “Maybe. In the end, it’s just kinda sad. All of it.”

It’s sad, and it’s terrifying, and it hurts, but she can’t do anything. She should be no more than an acquaintance to him, someone who doesn’t know the first thing about him. She should be relieved that even he himself doesn’t believe he’ll be able to find her, to find the girl behind the mask, and all she can think about is the sadness in his eyes.

It’s not fair.

“Do you want to hear my sad reason?” she mutters into the silence, offering up just one piece of her, one piece to fill the somber speechlessness between them.

“Thought you didn’t have a particular one.”

She rolls her eyes at him, and instead of teasing her further, he shows a tiny smile.

“I bet my whiskers it isn’t sad, but shoot.”

She takes a breath. Looks away again. Feels a tingle in the tips of her fingers. “I’m trying to get over someone.” The syllables burn on her lips.

She almost expected mockery, but instead, it stays silent for a few long seconds. Then Chat gives a drawn-out sound. “Whoever made you want to get over them must be an idiot.”

A laugh escapes her throat. “What? Why?”

“ _The_ Marinette was willing to date them, and they let her go.”

A bashful smile forms on her lips, replacing whatever pain accompanied her expression at first. When she risks a glance at him, she sees his head rolled over between his crossed arms, green eyes peeking out.

“He’s not an idiot,” she says.

“I disagree.”

“Well, you can’t make someone love you, right? He’s not an idiot for not liking me back.”

This time, he keeps quiet. Longer, longer, the night breathing on before them, faint sounds reaching them from lonely corners.

“So,” she says eventually, almost hesitant to break the peacefulness between them, “what are you going to do?”

He keeps looking at her. Face hidden behind his arms, leather reflecting the moonlight. Nothing but his green eyes. No trace of anything, no way to know what he is thinking about as he stares at her. She becomes self-conscious, but tries not to move. Tries to ignore the wild thump her heart gives.

Then his eyes widen in a sudden understanding she can’t comprehend, and she feels unable to escape, her head screaming danger.

“Help me,” he eventually emits.

She wants to laugh in astonishment. But she doesn’t, and instead she blinks at him rapidly. “Help you with what?”

“Help me find her.” In a sudden movement, he props his hands up on the railing and stretches his arms, bobbing up like a toy. “You’re way smarter than me. But I know what she is like. Imagine our two superpowers combined. We’d be unstoppable.”

She blinks again. “How – what – what exactly are you asking me to do?”

“Process of elimination. Easy.” Chat’s movements become erratic, and the grin on his lips is way too broad for her liking. “If I’ve got someone smart to talk this through, I won’t mess up this easily. I tell you about my conclusion, you tell me if I’m being stupid. Marinette.” Before she can react, he has grabbed both her shoulders, staring into her eyes with large green irises. “ _Purr_ etty please? It’s not everyday that a superhero asks for your help, right? So? You’re my only hope left. _Fur_ real. Say yes? Please?”

Her head is spinning as she keeps returning his stare. “What …?”

“Any favor you want. This kitty will spare no expanses. Just help me. Please. Will you?”

She should say no. She should quickly leave him to his own devices, watch from the sidelines as he can’t figure it out. Because of course he can’t. There is no way he can. Or would it be the smarter choice to help? Because being his direct consultant, she could very well mislead him easily. No way he’d pick Marinette then.

Smart, he says. She’s smart. In this exact moment, her brain feels useless and as slow as a defective train on overgrown tracks.

Because, honestly, refusing could bare the chance of him finding out. However slim that chance is.

Which would be bad. Which she doesn’t want. Which she would never want.

Which she _can’t_ want.

She swallows down the lump in her throat. Breathes. Doesn’t think about how close Chat is, doesn’t think about how pleadingly he stares at her. Doesn’t think about how she is going to deceive him. Never let him have that chance. Doesn’t think about how yet again, she has to be the responsible one, leaving every last one of her wishes well behind. Not even allowing herself to think about what she wants. There is no room for that. There never was.

“Okay,” she whispers. “I’ll help you.”

For a moment, nothing happens. Then Chat’s face lights up. And then, with one of the goofiest smiles she has ever seen on his face, he starts bouncing on the spot as he reaches for her hands.

“I owe you,” he says, laughing while he drags her around as if starting a little silly dance, and she can’t do nothing but follow his lead, even the smile on her own lips painful. “I seriously do.”

This isn’t going to end well, she thinks.

“What did I do?” Marinette whispers for the fifth time.

“Uh, well, you told me,” Tikki tries for the fifth time, “that you agreed to help Chat Noir find Ladybug. He didn’t specify what kind of help you could provide, but –”

“No, that’s not what I meant. What did I _do_?”

For a few seconds, Tikki pauses. “You agreed to help Chat Noir find Ladybug, even though he didn’t specify –”

“No, Tikki, not that! What did I _do_?”

“I feel like we’re going in circles.” Again, a pause. “Talking in circles, rather.”

“Oh god.” Marinette keeps staring at the wall in front of her, feeling coldness run through her whole body. “Why did I agree?”

“That, you didn’t specifically tell me.”

“You should really take a lesson in rhetorical devices.”

Tikki nods slowly. “I was told the same by one of my girls in ancient times when rhetorical devices were first introduced. It was interesting to see how even humans needed to understand the concept before effectively using it.”

“Thank you for the history lesson, Tikki, but there are more pressing matters right now!”

“I’m so sorry, but I don’t really understand.” With a little sound, Tikki floats down to sit right in front of Marinette. “What is the problem? This way, it becomes so much easier to deceive Chat Noir, right? He will never guess that the girl he asked for help is the same one he is actually searching for.”

“That’s just it,” Marinette mumbles, hiding her face behind her hands. “I feel horrible.”

“But I thought you don’t want him to find out under any circumstances?”

“I don’t!”

“Then I really don’t understand.”

“Me neither, Tikki. I really don’t understand.”

And she doesn’t. Because she doesn’t want him to find out. But she doesn’t want to hurt him. She doesn’t want to endanger everyone dear to her. But she doesn’t want to break his heart. She doesn’t want to be a horrible liar. But he didn’t leave her choice.

She didn’t leave herself a choice.

She has no idea what she wants, and what she doesn’t want, and just thinking about the sadness in Chat Noir’s eyes makes her stomach churn.

“I’m lying to his face,” she eventually whispers. “I’m lying to that one person I trust the most. I should have never promised him to let him guess at all. I should have just shut it all down and called it a day.”

For a long time, Tikki stays silent. There’s nothing but the plain wall in front of Marinette, her endless doubts circling through her head. Then Tikki’s antennas droop, and she blinks at Marinette.

“Do you think, if he had a fair chance, that Chat Noir would find out who you are?”

Does he know her that well? Can he see beneath who Ladybug is and find a shimmer of Marinette in there? Wouldn’t that be stupid, believing that he can? No matter how genuine his adoration seems, this isn’t a fairy tale. He won’t magically recognize her out of nowhere. He had years to see behind the mask, and he never did. Just like she never saw behind his.

Because she couldn’t.

Because she didn’t want to.

Because there would be too many risks.

Because it would have changed everything.

“Look,” Tikki continues after seconds of waiting. “Marinette, I told you. Both of you could reveal your identities to each other. As long as you are very careful and make sure it stays between the two of you, there’s not that much of a risk. It happened time and time again, especially when Ladybug and Chat Noir became adults. Not always, but it did happen. Still, it’s your choice. Entirely your choice.” Her little paw feels warm on Marinette’s knee. “You don’t have to make a choice right away. You are allowed to change your mind anytime you want. Okay?”

Just one of so many sacrifices. It’s easier not to think about it. Just push through. Push and push until it’s over.

Marinette sighs. “Okay. Thank you, Tikki.”

“Nothing to thank me for.”

**Marinette:** so, theoretically, we could unmatch, right?  
**Marinette:** because we’re sure i’m not the girl you’re searching for  
**Marinette:** haha……..right?  
**Chat Noir:** what?? no!  
**Chat Noir:** this is the only way i can communicate with you!  
**Chat Noir:** unless that’s your subtle way of asking for my number? 😘  
**Marinette:** DON’T give me your number  
**Marinette:** because i doubt you’d be prescient enough to get yourself a burner phone for your secret superhero identity?  
**Chat Noir:** 🥴  
**Marinette:** okay ……  
**Marinette:** then you aren’t wrong about not unmatching  
**Chat Noir:** you mean, i’m right?  
**Marinette:** nah. you aren’t wrong  
**Chat Noir:** oh come on, just one time  
**Chat Noir:** i’m right? 😎  
**Marinette:** you’re being silly  
**Chat Noir:** and right? 😎  
**Marinette:** i’m about to unmatch you  
**Chat Noir:** but i was still right? 😎  
**Marinette:** chat!!! stop!  



	3. Chapter 3

“Okay, please don’t freak out, girl.” Alya puts both hands on Marinette’s shoulders, her face the definition of seriousness. “I really tried talking him out of it, but it didn’t work, because being oh-so-polite is a real strength of his, isn’t it? So he’s going to help us, whether we want to or not. I’m really sorry. I tried my best. Just …”

Her tone says it all. Marinette blinks a few times. “Adrien.”

“Yes.”

She gasps like a fish out of water. “But you said only Luka and Nino would help us!”

“Yes, I know!” Alya’s grip strengthens. “And then Nino got into stupid boyfriend mode and thought bringing his best friend would be a good idea. Just because I said we’d need more strong manly men to help us. Jeez, doesn’t mean he has to bring Adrien!”

Marinette can’t move. She knows very well what she is wearing. Comfortable, sloppy clothes, that is. Because moving furniture around doesn’t require anything fashionable. And as their closest friends, none of the others would have looked twice at her.

But Adrien of all people?

“I’ll go home,” she squeaks.

“Girl. No, you won’t.” Alya shakes her lightly. “You’re risking all our furniture getting ruined! You know Nino, right? ‘It’s IKEA, why the hell would ya need a manual, dude? Oh, hey, babe, they didn’t pack enough screws. What, that screw doesn’t belong here? Nah, it fits perfectly! Just used that hammer to make sure it’s super tight. Why you lookin’ at me like that, babe?’”

“I like your Nino imitation. Reminds me of him a lot.”

“Thank you! Had enough time to practice.” She leans closer. “Don’t leave me in the lurch. Please.”

“But …”

“Please!”

So there she is. The entrance of her new, empty home. In a hoodie that doesn’t remotely fit her, and in pants that loosely hang off her hips. Great. She looks like a hobo. Just what she needed. She can hardly move as Alya gives her one last very convincing thumbs-up and heads for another room.

The last time she saw Adrien lies weeks behind – when Alya forgot to tell her that Nino would bring his best friend with him. Nothing too surprising, but still. At least she looked somewhat presentable back then. And not like she was planning on enjoying the company of a crapton of ice cream with a side of Netflix.

She feels frozen in place as she hears steps from their future living room. Nowhere to hide. Literally. Not a single piece of furniture to hide behind yet. Maybe she could just turn around and discreetly leave all of them alone. Spontaneously disappear. Yeah, great plan.

“I like your hoodie.”

It’s only Luka though, smiling at her softly as he keeps standing in the doorframe, and she looks down at herself to discover it’s one of the hoodies he gave her, showing his band’s logo. Honestly, she didn’t even give it a second thought when she put it on. She grins back at him, rolling up the sleeves. “Can’t hide that I’m a fangirl, I guess.”

“Who’s your favorite?” He pats her back as she joins him. “The guitarist?”

“Him? He’s all right.”

“More than all right, you mean.”

“As long as he can put furniture together.” Still grinning, she enters the living room. Boxes, and some more boxes, and in the middle of all that chaos – a heap of blonde hair, and a dazzling smile, and a laugh that makes her shiver from head to toe.

For a moment, no coherent thought reaches her mind. She wonders when this will stop. When she’ll be able to act around Adrien like she does around anyone else.

Maybe never.

Unconsciously, she grabbed Luka’s arm, and she feels his concerned eyes on her. “You okay?”

“Perfectly fine,” she mumbles. Because she is. Time heals all wounds. Or something. She’ll just have to wait it out. Avoid him as much as possible, not think about it. That’s easy. Manageable. Surely.

Green eyes meet hers. She can’t handle the warm smile he shows her. It shouldn’t have any effect on her, not anymore, but it still makes her heart tremble.

“Hi, Marinette,” Adrien says. “I like your hoodie.”

It shouldn’t be different, but it is. The same words, and she feels her fingers dig deeper into Luka’s arm until she consciously has to loosen her grip. “Thanks. Luka made it for me.” And there she goes again. “Gave! Gave, I mean. He gave it to me.”

“Oh. That’s a nice gift.” There’s something off about the way Adrien looks at Luka then, but she isn’t sure what exactly to call it. Even though it would have been thrilling, and confusing, it isn’t jealousy. Wouldn’t have made any sense. But she isn’t able to really place it, and before she can ponder it any further, Luka’s voice wrenches her from her thoughts.

“I could give you one too, if you’d like.”

“Sure thing,” Nino joins their conversation. “Could model in it. Perfect advertisement.”

“I mean,” Alya says, “hoodies do suit you, sunshine.”

“Thanks?” A faint blush grazes Adrien’s cheeks.

“You’re welcome. Now let’s go, boys. This will take a while.”

Luka pats her back one more time, sending her another smile. Maybe it’s supposed to be reassuring. Instead, the tension occupying her whole body only intensifies. She watches as he approaches one of the numerous boxes littering the floor, and with a sigh, she goes to work too.

“Best thing about moving.”

“Pizza paid by the new residents?”

“Exactly,” Nino brings out between two bites, his mouth stuffed to the brim. “That, and free beer.”

“À ta santé,” Alya laughs as she pushes her beer against Nino’s. “An odd sight. Marinette drinking beer.”

“Not like you left me much of a choice,” Marinette mumbles, nibbling at her pizza. “You texted me that we still have some red wine.”

“I forgot we drank it all last week.” Alya snorts. “We really shouldn’t make that a tradition, hun. We’ll end up as alcoholics.”

“Absolutely. Cheers to that.”

Marinette tries to drink her beer, ignoring how the bitter taste uncomfortably sticks to her tongue. From her position at the far end of the room, she can see the entrance hall. Luka went there some minutes ago. Presumably to use the toilet. Adrien followed him. Presumably to use the toilet too.

So when she sees both of them outside the toilet, face to face, she is mildly surprised, to say the least.

It’s kind of strange to see the two of them in a conversation that doesn’t seem as calm as it should be. They are talking quietly enough for no word to really reach her ears, but their body language speaks volumes. She knows what Luka does when he deems a conversation ridiculous – he crosses his arms, an expression of half-amusement coloring his face. Adrien is the one speaking, hands in his pockets and brows furrowed. She watches them, feeling like she is doing something forbidden, yet unable to look away, and when Alya calls her name twice, she flinches violently.

“Huh?” she says. “Sorry, were you talking to me?”

“I was.” Alya arches an eyebrow and follows Marinette’s line of sight. “Wait. Are they fighting?”

“What? Who?” Nino leans to his left. “Nah. Hey, dudes, you fightin’?”

At Nino’s sensitive and careful question, both Adrien and Luka whirl their heads around. A bashful smile appears on Adrien’s lips as he scratches the back of his head. “No, sorry. We were just talking.”

“Great!” Grinning, Nino turns to the girls again. “You see?”

Mumbling something underneath her breath, Alya rolls her eyes. “Come on, boys. Your pizza is getting cold.”

“I’m not that hungry.” Instead of joining them, Adrien just shows an apologetic smile and moves to one of the bedrooms. Luka looks after him. There’s something way too pensive about his expression, and as soon as he sits down, Marinette already leans closer to him.

“What the hell happened?” she whispers.

“No idea.” Luka nods in Adrien’s direction. “Maybe he’d need some company?”

By now, she knows Luka’s subtle implications quite well. Still, it’s hard to grasp just what exactly is going on, and she makes a face. “You didn’t say something weird, did you?”

“Not me.” A small smile appears on his lips.

“Swear it.”

“I swear.”

“Luka, you know you’re the best friend ever, but your maturity can really get on one’s nerves.”

“Agreed,” Alya joins their quiet conversation. “Someone really should go after him, though. Nino?”

“Sure,” says Nino between two bites, his mouth still full.

Before she can think better of it, Marinette straightens her back, smacking her hands against her thighs. “You’re still eating. I’ll do it.”

For a few seconds, Nino stops chewing. “Sure,” he eventually says.

“Sure,” Alya repeats, looking at her inquisitively.

“Good idea,” Luka confirms.

Okay, maybe it was a mistake. She feels really self-conscious as she stands up, grinning shakily at the others before she grabs a fresh can of beer out of the fridge. Then, with unsteady steps, she approaches the door to what should eventually become her bedroom. A glance at the others reveals that all three of them are giving her very reassuring grins. She can’t shake the nervous feeling running through her body though. It makes her knees weak, and when she peeks into the room, she sees Adrien, crouched down and a crinkle between his eyebrows as he stares at the manual.

She takes a look at the boards in front of him. Seems to be her work desk. It’s not hard to see where the problem lies, and why the crinkle between his eyes only deepens. With careful steps, she approaches him and sets down his can of beer. He only looks up for a second before turning to the manual again.

“I think I messed up.”

For a second, she isn’t quite sure what he means. But nothing else would make sense, and with a hum, she turns to the few boards in front of him. “No, you didn’t. Easily fixable.”

“So I did mess up.”

“As long as something is fixable, you didn’t mess up.” She crouches next to him, turning to the first page. It only takes a minute until she arrives at the root of the problem, and she taps against one of the pictures with her finger. “See? The holes don’t match up because you took the wrong side.”

With a groan, Adrien hides his face behind his hands. “Sorry. It’s my fault.”

That’s somehow adorable, but also a tad concerning, and she lightly jabs his shoulder. “All we gotta do is take out the screws and turn the board around. No biggie at all.”

Adrien sighs again. Then he drops his hands, staring at the boards as if being able to move them just by sheer willpower. “Okay.”

“Just …” She moves across from him, tapping against the desk’s wood. “Could you hand me a screwdriver?”

“Sure! Sure.”

“You can take the electric drill.”

A few seconds of silence. Adrien doesn’t look at her, eyes strictly directed at the floor. She is starting to think she said something wrong, and her mouth already opens to let out a stream of clumsy apologizes, but then he speaks again, quietly and bashfully.

“I don’t know how to use one.”

“Oh.” She blinks. “Oh! Uh.” She blinks again. “That’s easy. Want me to show you?”

From underneath his lashes, he looks at her. “That’s really embarrassing, isn’t it?”

“No! No. It’s adorable.” Oh. Oh man. Oh no. “No, I mean – it’s really manly! Uh, not that manly, I guess – I mean, who cares about manliness? That’s overrated. What I actually mean is …” She screws her eyes shut, fingers digging into her thighs in an attempt to give herself some grounding. “Give me the drill, please?”

“Y-yeah. Sure.”

She reminds herself to use less words and show more actions, so she ignores the loud voice screaming why she constantly has to be an embarrassing mess around him. Instead she pushes the button on the electric drill causing it to turn counterclockwise, and as she inserts the bit into the screw, she finally dares glance at Adrien again. He is watching her intently. Being the center of his attention is thrilling in a way it shouldn’t be. Her hand almost slips when she applies a bit more pressure.

“That’s all it takes,” she says. “You just push a button, and that’s it.”

She demonstrates it, watching the screw loosening to escape the sight of Adrien staring at her hand. Then she hands the electric drill over. Adrien stares at the machine as if being handed a wild animal, and he directs his gaze at her once again, this time looking almost helpless.

“I’m gonna screw it up,” he tells her.

“Screwing is the whole point of this ordeal,” she replies.

And freezes.

Horrible pun. Horrible, horrible pun. She is about to apologize profoundly and vanish from the face of the earth, preferably forever. But when Adrien bursts into laughter, she can do nothing but stare in bewilderment. At least until his laughter becomes contagious, and with hot cheeks, she lets a little chuckle escape her.

“Okay,” he says. “Marinette, a punster.”

“That one slipped out.”

“Glad it did. Also, you aren’t wrong,” he says, but still doesn’t take the electric drill from her.

“I know. So come on. Try it.”

Only hesitantly, he finally takes the drill from her. Their fingers brush for a second. It’s somehow sad to know that she’s the only one feeling the electricity of their touch. Then again, there’s nothing she can change. She bites the inside of her cheek and moves to check the manual, needing three attempts until she can finally concentrate. Next to her, the loud sound of the electric drill reaches her ears, and she only looks up when it stops for good.

“It really isn’t that difficult,” says Adrien.

“I told you.” She smiles at him. “Sometimes, you just have to take a risk.”

Their eyes meet. The full weight of her words only slowly sets in. She is glad she is speaking to Adrien right now, and to no one else but him. She is glad that she can pretend her words couldn’t apply to so much more than just this situation, and she almost doesn’t register the faint smile Adrien shows in return.

“I guess that’s true.”

They keep working, each one of them on their own, and Marinette only turns back to him after confirming that all necessary screws are removed. Like she said, it’s easily fixable. She asks Adrien to hand her the necessary screws after checking the boards’ positions. It reminds her of sewing her dresses. How she has to concentrate on the movement of her hands, how certain motions become automatic over time, how she can see the progress right before her own eyes until the desk’s surface is all set. There’s something satisfying about seeing your work come to fruition like that. Seeing separate parts become something whole.

Another glance at the manual, another glance at Adrien, and it’s only then she notices how hard he is staring at her, almost looking dumbfounded.

Automatically, she reaches for her face. “Is there something – do I have something on …?”

“What?” Adrien blinks.

“You’re – you’re staring?” It only come out in a high-pitched squeak, and she ducks her head. “Or were you just, sorry, I just …”

“No! I’m sorry.” He clears his throat. Doesn’t look at her anymore. The atmosphere becomes weird as his eyes dart around aimlessly. Almost suffocating. She wants to run away, and yet some part of her wants to see where this is going, wants to know the reason behind his sudden restlessness. “It’s just – I needed half an eternity to figure out the instructions. You needed no more than ten seconds.”

“Well … It’s not IKEA, but it’s not rocket science either. Maybe you just need some practice?”

“Or you’re incredibly smart.”

Her heart makes a jump. He said it with something akin to wonder. Her whole face turns hot. Some people did call her smart, sometimes genuinely, sometimes jokingly. She felt flattered every single time. But it’s different when he says it, entirely different, and she can’t quite place it. She can’t tell why something whispers in her head, reminding her that after all, it still feels _familiar_. For whatever reason, it does.

But this is Adrien. Adrien, who only sees her as a friend. Adrien, who she can’t run after forever.

Right.

“I’m not that smart,” she mumbles, concentrating on the board before her again. Her screwdriver slips from the screw’s metal, and she gives a huff. “See. Can’t even do that without problems.”

“You tell someone who can’t properly use an electric drill.”

“You can now,” she replies as she risks a glance at him. Their eyes meet. His smile is too much, and she can’t get enough of it.

“Thanks to your help.”

“You would’ve figured it out sooner or later.”

“I doubt it.” He averts his gaze, letting the drill meet the palm of his hands a few times without turning it on. “Sometimes it feels as if my only talent is being, well, kinda good-looking. And really, that’s not much of a talent, is it?”

A heavy breath builds in her lung. She refuses to accept that this really is what Adrien Agreste thinks of himself. It shouldn’t be. But before she can say anything, a flash of blue hair joins them, a calm smile on pale lips.

“You two doing all right?”

“Yeah,” Adrien replies before she does. No shimmer of aversion in his eyes. The same charming, sweet smile he always shows. “Marinette’s teaching me a thing or two.”

“That’s good.” She doesn’t understand the amusement dancing in Luka’s eyes as he looks at her. “Well, then good luck with your lessons. We’re trying to get Alya’s bed standing without her bickering every other second.” A good-natured smile accompanies his words.

“I told her to get a box-spring bed,” Marinette says, glad to have Luka’s eyes holding her in, an anchor she doesn’t have to let go of. “Expensive as hell, but at least easy to set up.”

“You don’t have one either,” Luka points out.

“Yep. Because I can assemble my bed on my own. If I have to.”

“Of course you don’t have to,” says Adrien. “That’s why we are here.”

A fuzzy ball of warmth forms in her stomach, and she can’t help but give him a little smile. “And I’m very shakeful. Lakeful. Grateful! Oh my god.”

Laughter in his eyes, Luka nods at them. “Good luck being lakeful.”

Her face becomes unbearably hot in a matter of seconds. “Luka!”

Not even trying to hide his amusement, Luka laughs quietly as he leaves them alone again. She groans heavily, not looking Adrien in the eye as she starts to insert more screws.

“You two are close, huh?” she hears Adrien say. There’s something careful about his tone, or maybe she is just imagining things.

“We are, I guess. He’s a great guy.”

“Guess he really is.”

She isn’t sure how to respond. When she looks up from her work, Adrien is staring at the manual. She can’t place the emotion on his face. Somehow, she doesn’t dare to. It’s hot with the thick hoodie she is wearing, but she doesn’t do anything about it. Instead, she brushes strands of hair from her face, plucking up all her courage.

“Did you two get into a fight?”

Her words were meek and so quiet she thinks he didn’t even hear her. So when Adrien does reply, she winces in surprise.

“Who?”

“You and Luka.” She clears her throat. “Because, uh. Because it kinda … Not that it’s any of my business, but … Well, we saw you, and I’m just worried …”

“We didn’t. We just talked.”

His words are hard and final. She doesn’t dare look at him. “Okay. If he did something stupid, then tell me. I have a friend duty to fulfill.”

“Friend duty?”

“Yeah. If he does something stupid, I’ll have to kick his butt.”

Adrien laughs. Knowing that she caused this sound makes her feel lightheaded for a second. “Okay then. He did something stupid.”

“What did he do?”

“He missed a chance.”

She tilts her head in genuine confusion, sitting up. But he still doesn’t look at her, instead sorting through the screws that came with the desk. “What do you mean, missed a chance?”

“And it’s _my_ friend duty to not tell you any more than that.” His smile is too small to be honest, and for some endless seconds, she tries to put the pieces together. But she can’t, and instead of pressing him, she follows his lead, resuming to build her desk.

A loud bang, a number of thumps, and Marinette jumps to her feet with a shriek, staring at the source of the noise. Her ceiling. So, her balcony. She exchanges a confused look with her kwami, and when Tikki just shrugs helplessly, Marinette takes heart. Not before grabbing one of her books as a make-shift weapon. With trembling hands, she starts climbing her ladder, hesitating for seconds before she slowly lifts the lid to her balcony. Her fingers are cramping around her book, and with a deep breath, she peeks outside.

Or rather tries to. Because she is greeted by a fiend. Or rather, a whole number of fiends. Or rather, numerous paper rolls which hit her face-first. She tries her best to dodge roll after roll, hearing them landing on the floor one by one. In the end, all that is left is a curious face right in front of her, glancing through the small crack she left open.

“Surprise!” Chat Noir grins.

She stares at him, dumbfounded. “Did you just attack me?”

“What? I would never! What kind of horrible kitty do you take me for?”

She glances at the rolls being littered all over the floor. Then she looks back at him. Then she opens the lid further and proceeds to smack the book against his head with light force. With a whine, Chat winces back, rubbing his ears. Pouting, he takes a look at the book.

“ _Petit princesse_ , you should really leave Atoine de Saint-Exupéry out of this.”

“Bad kitty.” With a sigh, she opens the lid for him and climbs down. “My parents could hear you! Keep it down next time. And don’t make a mess of my room with … those.” She wrinkles her forehead. “Is that your version of a cat bringing its owner dead mice? If yes, then please stop.”

“Marinette, puh-lease. This is strategic equipment.”

She raises an eyebrow at him as she arrives at the floor of her room.

“You’ll see.” Contrary to her, Chat only needs two little jumps until he lands on the floor on all fours, every single one of his movements way too smooth for her liking. “At least parents won’t be a problem soon, eh?”

“Yeah, but my roommate will be instead.” It takes her some seconds to understand. “Wait. How do you …”

“Word got around,” Chat interrupts her. She eyes him suspiciously, but he doesn’t return her stare, instead picking up his rolls until he can hardly fit them in his arms anymore. By now, Tikki has wisely decided to vanish into thin air, and Marinette keeps staring, her gears rattling. Word got around? It’s not like Marinette is the most exciting person around, so it’s almost scary to think what people could be talking about behind her back. It needs some time until Chat looks at her again, balancing way too many rolls in his arms.

“I like your hoodie,” he tells her. “Kitty Section, huh? Someone must have _furry_ great taste.”

“Oh. Yeah.” For the second time this day, she gives a sigh and rolls up her sleeves to prepare for work. She picks up the paper rolls he can’t, watching in amusement as Chat tries his best not to let another roll land on the floor. “Do you know Luka? He’s the band’s guitarist. Likes to give out hoodies.”

“Sure. Luka. Luka Couffaine, right?” He wiggles his eyebrows. “Your boyfriend?”

She laughs. “God, no.”

“Aw, come on. Boys don’t give girls hoodies for nothing.”

“There’s this concept called ‘friendship’. You know, that thing between you and me? Just the same.”

She was just joking around, but the way Chat’s face lights up makes her self-conscious in an instant. That’s a bit strange, how such simple words can lift his mood that easily. It’s also a bit sad. Still, her cheeks turn hot when he grins at her.

“Friends, huh? Is that what we are?”

“Well, seeing as I’m not kicking you out right now …”

“Do friends usually match on Tinder?”

She glares at his amused snicker. “No, they don’t. Do friends usually bring a ton of paper rolls to the other’s place?”

“Sure. If they plan on belling a cat, they gotta have a game plan.”

Ah. So that’s what it’s all about. They drop all rolls in one of the corners, and Chat begins sorting through them until he seems to find a particular one. They are all labeled, countless numbers Marinette can’t make sense of. She crosses her arms as she watches Chat unroll one of them, and she is presented with the sight of, well, girls. Photos of girls. A lot of them. All of them precisely cut out, adorned with names. Chat does a little gesture as if presenting a magic trick, and she feels her right eye twitch.

“Did you print out pictures of all your matches?” she asks, incredulous.

“I’m not that creepy.” Seeing her reaction, Chat seems to sink into himself, his grin turning a bit helpless. “I only printed out pictures of the fifty girls I’m talking to. There, way less creepy!”

She stares at the pictures. Stares at him. Stares at the pictures. “Forty-nine.”

He looks at her questioningly.

“Minus me. You didn’t print a picture of me, did you?”

“Right! Minus you. I _fur_ got.” He nods a few times and swipes the pictures away from his poster. It’s filled from top to bottom with labeled sections. “Suspicious phrases”, and “questionable answers”, and “could be a hint”, and she isn’t starting to feel bad. She absolutely isn’t. Instead, she presses her crossed arms closer against her body, her fingers digging into her palms painfully.

“You put a lot of effort into this,” she says.

“Well. Gotta be thorough, right?”

“Right. It’s almost creepy.” But who is she to say that? It’s not like she knew Adrien’s schedule by heart, creating charts and updating her notes almost every day. Oh man. She puts a hand on her forehead and tries to breathe evenly. “And the other posters? What did you put on them?”

Chat sits down cross-legged. There’s a kind of innocence in his eyes she isn’t sure how to handle. It would have been easier if he was just catting around. It would have been easier to be angry at him, or to be able to call him out. Anything would have been easier than knowing what she knows now.

“Look. Plan is to vet them. Collect clues. Analyze them. Like Sherlock and his kitty.” He grins at her. “We’ll put it all on these posters. Get a look at it every now and then. Just, you know, like in those detective series. With pushpins and all that. There, and we got to swallow the canary.”

“Please stop abusing idioms.” She crouches down to him, reminding herself to take deep breaths. No use in feeling horrible and totally out of her element. No use in seeing his excitement and feeling her heart give a heavy thump.

For a second, she looks at him, looks for any sign of doubt on his face. She finds none.

“Is she really worth that much work?” she mumbles.

“She is.”

Quiet and solemn words. She feels herself shiver. Her mind screams at him to think this over. To not waste his time on a liar who is going to mislead him anyway. Unsuspecting third party, she tries to tell herself, and yet the words leave her lips before she can hold them back.

“What are you getting out of this, though? Is she going to date you?”

She knows the answer is no. He must know it too. She almost expects him to deny it, but his bitter laugh tells another story.

“She isn’t going to.”

And yet, it hurts.

“Then I don’t get it. Why waste all your time on this?”

He isn’t looking at her anymore. He is looking at the pictures of countless girls. He is looking through them. “You told me you’re trying to get over someone.”

It isn’t a question. Still, she answers. “I did.”

“That’s my way of getting over someone. Knowing I’ve done everything I can. Only giving up when I know there’s nothing else I can do. Absolutely nothing. Or else I’ll regret it.” He sends her a smile, small and sheepish. “Does that make more sense?”

It does. It doesn’t. She feels like crying. Years and years and years – did she let him waste that much time? Could she have done something? Should she have done anything? She can’t change others’ feelings. She couldn’t change Adrien’s, she can’t change Chat’s, but it still hurts.

She looks at her hands. Inspects her nails. Cut short, colorless. “So your way of getting over her is knowing who she really is?”

“Knowing who she is outside of … outside of how we got to know each other,” he says, words carefully strung together by a thin thread, “isn’t going to change much. But at least I’ll be able to let go of what-ifs, you know?”

It isn’t going to change much, he says. He’d fall for Marinette just as he’s fallen for Ladybug, he says. Sounds like a pretty little dream. Sounds like something she used to fantasize about when she was thirteen, and hoping, and never realizing how complicated feelings really are. She doesn’t want to wake Chat up from his own naïve dreams, but sooner or later, she’ll have to.

“And if you don’t find out?” she whispers. “If we get it wrong?”

He shrugs. “A sign of fate.”

“You say that so casually.”

“Well, nothing much I can change, right?” His smile is so trusting she resists the urge to wince. “With you by my side, there’s no way I could mess up, though. You make everything fixable, after all.”

Something in her mind screams. Something in her mind nudges her to think about those words, but she doesn’t. She can’t tell him that she’ll only disappoint him. Not everything is fixable. It’s the sad truth. She intertwines her fingers, taps against her knuckles, wonders why her hands feel so cold.

“You’re putting a lot of hope in me.”

“Yeah. Because you’re Marinette.”

“I’m not that special.”

His laugh is short and quiet. “That’s what you think? You couldn’t be more wrong.”

She keeps tapping. One knuckle, two. Cold fingertips. Yet she feels restless and out of breath.

“Aren’t you angry at her?” She doesn’t want to know the answer, but somehow she does. She wants him to be angry, because she is angry too. She wants him to make her feel horrible, because at least she’d have a reason to feel horrible. A reason that has little to do with her. But Chat only keeps smiling, that little weak smile, and it makes her chest constrict and her eyes water.

“No. Like I said, she has her reasons.”

“So that’s it?” After all, anger colors her voice, and it’s the kind of consuming anger that eats away at her from inside. “No matter what happens, whether you find out or not, you’ll let go of her? That’s – that’s your goal?”

He shrugs. “There’s something a wise girl once told me. You can’t make someone love you, right?”

Her own words thrown back at her. It almost knocks the air out of her lungs. She blinks, and her eyes sting, and before he can see anything he isn’t supposed to see, she looks away again. Reaches for one of the pictures. A pretty girl, blonde and with a dazzling smile. The kind of girl that could make anyone happy, maybe. He should let go of her. He should. So it doesn’t matter, right? Whether she’d mislead him or not. Whether she’d let him know her true identity or not. It wouldn’t matter, because he’d let go of her anyway. It wouldn’t matter, because she knows that despite everything, she’s a coward who won’t change anything.

For a moment, she allows herself to hide her face behind the picture, to take deep breaths. One, two, three seconds pass.

“She’s really lucky,” she whispers against the picture. Her voice won’t come out right, getting stuck on held-back tears. “To have you. I bet she knows that.”

“Wonder if she does.” Chat laughs quietly.

She gives herself another few seconds. Then she pulls herself together. Because she has to. It should be easier, knowing that it won’t change anything for him. It’s harder, knowing that the only one missing a chance is her. But she can’t do it. She just can’t. She _can’t_.

“So.” She clears her throat. Pushes any thought aside. “Let’s start.” Slowly, she lets the printed picture sink down again. “Uh, where do we start?”

“Easy. I’ll show you my conversations –”

“Oh, no, no, you won’t!”

Their eyes meet again. She’s glad the same sadness she feels isn’t reflected in his eyes, and she’s glad she can take her mind off the horrible feeling still setting in her throat.

“Why?” His ears twitch. “I promise I only had _furry_ innocent conversations. Kitty honor.”

“That’s not – not because of _that_.” She pauses. “Even though, yeah, also because of that. Anyway, you can’t show me your phone.”

His ears twitch again, and his grins slowly lessens. “Because I have the same phone as thousands of other Parisians?”

“And the same background, too?”

“Why would I show you my background?”

“Because good luck doesn’t exactly follow you around, right? Or what if someone texts you?”

“Flight mode.”

“Tinder requires an internet connection, dummy.”

“Damn it,” he mumbles under his breath. “Outsmarted me yet again.”

“It’s called common sense.”

He grins at her little jab. “Welp. _Fur_ tunately, my baton can be used for more than fighting.” With that, he swings aforementioned weapon, pushing a button to reveal a little screen. “Just let me see if I can install Tinder on this thing.”

“Abusing your superhero weapon? I’m shocked.”

“It has a great camera. I’m not _kitten_ around. Like, pro-level.”

“You’re taking pictures during akuma attacks? Aren’t you supposed to fight akumas?”

“Yeah?” He glances at her. “And who is supposed to document all of it?”

“Alya?”

He snorts. “True.”

Turns out, he can install Tinder on that little device, and when he hands her the baton with an excited grin, she suddenly feels like she is invading a very private space. There’s no number indicating how many girls he’s actually talking to, just a number showing how many new matches he has altogether. Realizing that so many girls matched with him makes her dizzy. She stares at the tiny icons, unable to touch a single one of them.

“I can’t just read your conversations,” she mumbles.

“Why not?”

“Because those girls don’t even know that someone else is reading their conversations!”

“Right.” She expected Chat to react with anything else but genuine worry. “You think we should send them a notice?”

She blinks a few times, flabbergasted. “That would be even worse.”

“But aren’t doing girls the same? When they are reading guys’ messages with their friends?”

She needs a while to answer. “That’s different.”

“Is it?”

“Absolutely.” She gives a tiny sigh. “Okay. You’re seriously ruining my karma. Be glad I still agreed.”

“You’re balancing it out, no worries. Helping me is a _purr_ fect way to restore karma.”

“Is it now?” She gives him a quick glance. “What exactly is reading your conversations going to do, though?”

Chat perks up even more, eyes sparkling. “Well. I tell you my suspicions, you tell me your opinion.”

He really trusts her a lot. More than he should. She can’t quite return his excited grin, and instead, she looks at the baton in her hands again. The screen is lit up before her, taunting her with countless little icons. Taking another breath, she scrolls down.

She starts at the bottom. She’s really glad she doesn’t recognize any of those girls. Paris is a big city, after all. When she opens the first chat, she is greeted by a very short conversation.

**Girl:** LOL! Chat Noir? lol, fake  
**Marinette:** nope, it’s really me  
**Chat Noir:** Riiiiight 😂😂😂  


Marinette grimaces. “Uh. That’s. Huh.”

Looking over her shoulder, Chat gives a sigh. “I had no idea how to respond to that. I know, it’s horrible, but …”

“What? What’s horrible? That you didn’t respond?”

She turns to look at him. He returns her stare, eyebrows raised. “Yeah?”

“Chat …” No words come to mind, and she shakes her head. “You can’t even – how are you supposed to respond to that? You should just unmatch her.”

“I can’t just unmatch her out of nowhere!” he protests.

“Of course you can! You exchanged, like, five words and three smileys!”

“Still! What will she think if I do?”

“That you were an imposter who put his tail between his legs and took his paws out the door.”

“Or she’ll think she did something wrong.”

“Um.” She blinks at the screen. Blinks at him. “She called you a fake and laughed at you.”

“Yeah.” Desperately, Chat gesticulates, emphasizing his words in a way too chaotic manner. “But how could she have known better? No one expects to match with an actual superhero, right?”

With a groan, Marinette rubs the bridge of her nose. “Would the girl you’re searching for react like that?”

“I don’t think so?”

“Your answer sounded like a question.”

“It didn’t?”

Okay. This will be harder than she thought. With a deep breath, Marinette turns to him, letting the baton sink down. “Then tell me a bit about her. Let’s analyze her. Find out what her most likely reaction would be.”

His ears perk up, and his leathery tail does too. It would almost be cute if she wasn’t feeling completely lost. “She’s perfect.”

“Okay.”

“Yeah.”

Silent seconds pass. Chat still seems way too excited, and she rolls her eyes. “Details, kitty. I need details.”

For a moment, he seems torn. If she didn’t know any better, she wouldn’t think much of it. But she realizes that he is trying to stay as vague as possible. For Ladybug’s sake. Suddenly, Marinette isn’t sure if she wants to hear what he has to say, but by then it’s already too late.

“She’s,” he starts, eyes finding a path down to the floor, eventually resting on his knees, “just as smart as you. And really brave. She can be surprisingly funny too. She’s dependable, and she looks out for people. She’d never intentionally hurt them. Not even me.”

Marinette feels all blood freeze in her body. It’s not fair. It’s not fair that he sounds that adoring, that his voice gets smaller with every new word, that he sounds like he is describing some otherworldly, angelic being. She is glad he isn’t looking at her as she answers. “You said – you told me … You said she’d try to make you mess up. How so?”

He shrugs. “Maybe by reacting exactly how I wouldn’t expect her to react.”

“So, how would you expect her to react?”

He hums, still staring at his knee. “I’d expect her to call me out. So, if she doesn’t want me to find out, she’d probably be extra friendly. Not let it show that she’s actually fuming.”

That hits a bit too close to home. Still, Marinette forces herself to tilt her head. “Why would she be fuming?”

“Oh. Because …” He lifts his head, showing a tiny smile. “Like you said. Superheroes _purr_ haps shouldn’t be on Tinder of all places.”

“Which is very much true,” she mumbles.

“If I didn’t create an account, I’d have never matched with her. So, all good.” His smile growing, Chat moves next to her, turning his baton’s display back on. “I don’t think it’s her.”

“You don’t think she would tell you you’re fake?”

“Precisely.”

“Well, then let’s unmatch her.” Before she can tap the corresponding button though, Chat’s spluttering sound makes her pause.

“You can’t just unmatch her like that!”

“What? Why not?”

“Then she’ll _really_ think she did something wrong.”

Marinette can’t help but sigh in exasperation. “Kitty, we’ve already gone over this.”

“Still! Can’t we, like, write some kind of goodbye message? ‘Thank you so much for your time, and sorry for unmatching’?”

She stares at him. Chat Noir, being on Tinder to hook up with numerous girls? Yeah, right. More like Chat Noir, trying to make as many girls as possible feel good about themselves and getting his own pride stomped on in the process. It’s kind of ridiculous, and kind of pitiful, and she is torn between shaking him until he gets a grip and telling that random girl to watch her mouth.

“Thing is,” she says slowly. “When you unmatch, all your messages are gone. So either you unmatch without a goodbye, or you write a goodbye and awkwardly wait until one of you finally does unmatch. Or you never delete the chat at all.”

“Oh,” he replies.

“She won’t take it personally. I promise.” She gives him the most convincing smile she can muster. Still, he doesn’t look all that happy.

“We don’t know her. You can’t say she won’t take it personally.”

“Chat – you can’t just try to please every girl on here, especially when you don’t really know a single one of them!”

“But …” He looks absolutely lost. Marinette resists the urge to pat his arm in reassurance. Or to throw him out and get out of this ridiculous situation. Instead, she taps the icon to unmatch.

And poof, gone.

“Hey!” Chat says next to her.

“We don’t have all evening to determine if you should unmatch one of forty-nine girls, Chat.” She flutters her eyelashes at him. “I just made it easier for you.”

“But …” Again, he stops at that single word, seemingly searching for a way to complete the sentence. “That doesn’t – I feel horrible.”

“That’s kinda cute, but also kinda annoying. I think she can take one unmatch from a Chat Noir imposter, right?”

“I guess,” Chat mumbles, still sounding a bit sour. He doesn’t even react to her calling him cute. It tears at her heart, and additionally to the feeling of doing something horrible to him right now, she feels guilty for ever judging him in the first place. If she knew him as well as he seems to know Ladybug, she should have noticed way sooner.

She goes over a number of his matches, unmatching those who take him to be an imposter. After a while, Chat watches her again, commenting then and again on why he thinks this girl must be nice and why that girl would surely make for a great friend. He never has just one negative thing to say, and she avoids his longer conversations at all costs. What’s most surprising though: it seems like he wants to uphold a conversation with every girl, sometimes with silly flirtations, sometimes without them. He seems to genuinely care. Again, she wonders how he has the energy to do it. To prioritize those girls’ well-being above his own. It’s sad, but even sadder is the fact that knowing him for years and years, it somehow makes sense.

She wants to make him come to his senses. She wants to tell him to look out for himself. She wants to ask him why he thought something like Tinder could make the feeling of loneliness less suffocating, but in truth, she knows the answer too well. She really does.

They arrive at twenty-four matches at the end. Still a lot, but significantly easier to work through.

And the quicker she gets this over with, the quicker they can return to normalcy, at least.

“You’ll have to unmatch all girls you didn’t talk to yet,” she says, taking a quick swipe through his endless list. “I really don’t have the willpower to repeat the same motion over and over and over. Not really fond of thumb cramps. That’s your job.”

“Guess you’re right,” Chat sighs as he keeps sorting through the pictures he printed out, aimlessly tossing the girls they unmatched over his shoulder. “This still feels horrible.”

“Welcome to Tinder.”

“Is it working for you? The whole getting-over-that-idiot thing?” Chat is still staring at the pictures, the corners of his mouth twitching every now and then.

She thinks about the right answer. Her mind feels sluggish. “I don’t know. I guess not really.”

“Yeah,” he mumbles. “I understand why.”

She takes a look at the remaining pictures. Pretty girls, all of them. Some smiling, some with heavy makeup, some in beautiful clothes. Some of them could be able to fall for Chat, she’s sure. Maybe most of them. Most of them could be able to break his heart. Just like she is doing.

At the end, twenty-four girls are left. It’s late, and when Chat stands up and looks down at his poster, a shimmer of exhaustion appears in his eyes. “So, one of them is her,” he says.

“Yeah,” she manages.

“One of those girls.” He utters it like a mantra, and with one corner of his mouth turned downwards, it looks as if he’s coldly examining rather than expecting to find the girl he fell for among those pictures.

She can understand why.

“Please don’t misuse your yo-yo as means of installing, what do you kids call it, dating apps.”

Marinette looks at her kwami. “I wouldn’t. I’m not Chat Noir.”

“Because what humans call magic is still based on a certain kind of logic. The phenomenon called ‘storage space’ isn’t lost on us.” Tikki glances up to the ceiling, the gears in her head clearly rattling. “Instead of firing circuits with electric energy, we rely on another kind of energy which emulates processes in machines. Still, we are dependent on mechanics humans built, so we have no choice but to use the same constructions. It’s comparable to the time travelling paradox – you can only travel to the point in time in which the first time travel machine was built. In fact –”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Tikki blinks a few times. “Your yo-yo is the equivalent of a Nokia 3310.”

“A Nokia what?”

“I feel old.”

“You’re as old as the earth.”

“Some decades younger, thank you. I mean, your yo-yo isn’t supposed to run dating apps. That’s all.”

With a sigh, Marinette lets herself fall back on her bed, staring at the white ceiling. It’s early morning, and she still feels tired. “Do you understand why Chat is doing what he is doing?”

Tikki hums lowly. “You don’t?”

Yes. No. “Is it my fault?”

“That he’s on Tinder?”

“That he feels lonely.”

It’s going to rain today. Dark clouds cover the sky. Marinette feels the coldness to her bones.

“Could you have done something differently? Would you have done something differently?” Tikki’s voice is careful and quiet. “I think the answer is no. So my answer is no, too. I think it’s not your fault. I think it wouldn’t be fair on you to make this your fault.”

It’s the answer she hoped for, the answer she doesn’t want to hear, and Marinette drapes her hand over her face, waiting for seconds to pass by.


	4. Chapter 4

Alya is already sitting at their favorite table in their favorite café, a cute little place located in a quiet side street. Marinette’s standard drink – a hot chocolate with extra milk – is already waiting for her when Alya sharply looks up, eyes shimmering with the promise of news. Big news, even, judging by the way she leans forward as she is waiting for Marinette to approach her.

“Something happened?” Marinette therefore asks as she sits down.

“Something happened all right,” Alya shoots back. “There’s a Chat Noir imposter on Tinder! The nerves this guy must have. Or girl, whatever. Can you believe it? Posing as a superhero?”

Oh. Oh no. Marinette’s cheeks lose all warmth. She puts her fingers around the cup, feeling the heat sip onto her cooled skin. “Wow! That’s. That’s unbelievable. How did you find out?” Her voice is too squeaky, but luckily for her, Alya doesn’t seem to pay that fact any attention. Instead, she wildly scrolls through her phone.

“Some girls tweeted about it. That he unmatched when they called him out on his obvious bluff. I mean, what would Chat Noir do on Tinder?”

“Yeah,” Marinette drawls. “Good question.”

“But as the most dedicated journalist this world has ever seen, of course I’ll have to investigate this case more thoroughly. Just think about how much traction the Ladyblog would gain.” Shimmering eyes zero in on Marinette again. Alya looks so serious that a shiver runs down Marinette’s back. “We’ve got to download Tinder.”

“Okay?”

“Give me your phone.”

Marinette stares. “Why?”

“Because,” Alya impatiently moves her outstretched hand up and down, “if I were to hop onto Tinder, Nino wouldn’t be too happy about it. Also, honestly, it would do you some good to finally go on some dates. Right? We won’t even need a drawn-out evening with a lot of wine to convince you. We have a perfect reason right here! So?”

Marinette keeps staring. “I don’t really want to?”

Alya’s hand sinks down. “Then let’s pretend we’re someone else.”

“You want to catfish people? That’s horrible!”

“I want to catfish a catfish! That’s not horrible, that’s honorable!”

“Then why not use your phone to create the profile?”

Alya narrows her eyes, slightly leaning forward. “Because there’s something you don’t want to tell me. You never refused to give me your phone before.”

Marinette squeaks, wincing back in her seat to escape Alya’s piercing stare. “I didn’t download Tinder without telling you! Why would I?”

Oh, great. Marinette smacks her forehead, not looking up again as she waits for Alya’s reaction. Her and her running mouth. That’s just awesome. Seconds pass until she hears Alya shift across from her.

“Do you – do you want me to look over your profile? Give you tips? Like a best friend should?” Alya sounds hesitant, and when Marinette looks up, Alya’s smile is small and weak. “If it’s fine with you, of course. No pressure.”

“You’re not mad?” Marinette mumbles.

“A bit? Maybe? But it’s not my place to invade your private space, you know? Rather, I’m glad you’re giving this whole dating thing a try.” Alya reaches for Marinette’s hand over the table, patting it softly. “If you wanna talk about it, you know I’d always lend you an ear. If not, also fine.”

Marinette glances at her cup, watches the last remains of foamed milk wander slowly from one side to the other. Her nails lightly scratch the ceramic, and the words get stuck in her throat. She could tell Alya all about it. In a roundabout way, of course, but she could tell her about it. Nevertheless, what would happen then? She’d have to tell Alya the outcome too, and the risk would be too great yet again.

All she can do is keep quiet. Be the responsible one. Just like she always is. And as the responsible one, she has a duty to fulfill.

So she gives a heavy sigh. “I matched with that supposed Chat Noir too.”

A loud splutter before she lifts her head to see Alya lean closer, eyes having grown wide. “No! You did?”

“Yep. Definitely an imposter.”

“You swiped right on Chat Noir? Girl, something you wanna tell me?”

Marinette gives an exhausted sound. “I was just curious if it really is the real Chat.”

“And,” Alya presses, “how did you know that he isn’t?”

“Well, first of all, what is an actual superhero doing on Tinder?” She shrugs. “Secondly, same thing that happened to the other girls happened to me. I called him out, he stopped responding.”

With that, Alya leans back again, narrowing her eyes. “You know what’s funny?”

Something about her tone makes Marinette nervous, and she responds with the most innocent expression she can muster. “No? What?”

“Those photos he posted on Tinder? I can’t find them anywhere else. Never saw them either. So, either this imposter hacked into Chat’s files, or …” Alya’s voice becomes a low whisper. “It really is the real one.”

Damn Alya and her investigation skills. Marinette is starting to sweat. “Are you sure? Did you just do a reverse image search and called it a day? You know, there are many sources of pictures online, so who knows where they came from? I’m pretty sure I saw two or three of them! Not that I have that much knowledge of Chat’s pictures, but what if it’s, uh, a picture he deleted, or a really good cosplayer, or, you know, there are so many explanations that make sense!” With that, she forces herself to stop her wild stream of words and grins at Alya broadly.

“A really good cosplayer,” Alya repeats. “I don’t know. On those Tinder photos, the shape of that guy’s nose is the exact same as Chat’s.”

“You … checked the shape of his nose?”

“Desperate times call for desperate measures. Anyway, I still smell something fishy here.”

“Something catfishy.”

“Or something catty.”

Marinette bites the inside of her cheek. But it’s just another secret out of so many more, and even though she should get used to misleading Alya just like this, it never becomes easier. She taps against her cup, her stomach churning. But before she can spin her lie further (and further – and further), Alya speaks up again, her voice becoming softer.

“How’s your Tinder experience going other than that? Is it working?”

Marinette has to smile. It hurts a bit. “Didn’t help to see him two days ago.”

“I know. Again, I’m so sorry. But don’t you think he was acting weird?”

Slowly, she looks up again, being met by Alya’s still narrowed eyes. “You mean, that whole Luka thing?”

“Yeah. They never talked that much before. Definitely never got into a fight. Luka wouldn’t tell me what that was about, though.”

“He didn’t tell me either.”

“Odd,” mumbles Alya. “But you know what you don’t need? Someone odd. You need a nice, handsome boyfriend who appreciates you.”

Marinette can’t hold back a laugh. “And you think I will find him on Tinder?”

“I don’t know. What about your matches up to now?” A grin builds on Alya’s lips. “You know, the best thing about your best friend getting Tinder is that it feels like you can get that whole experience too. Don’t get me wrong, Nino is great and all, but casually dating sounds fun as heck.”

Marinette doesn’t need to tell her that she already stopped swiping, that there are still seven unread messages in her inbox, and that the only time she opens the app is when she wants to – _needs_ to – when she needs to contact Chat Noir.

Instead, she plasters on a smile. “Should I be worried?”

“Yeah, right. If I get Nino drunk enough, he’d might agree to create a fake profile.”

Marinette gasps. “Alya!”

“Not to catfish! Only to see what’s on the market.” She shrugs. “As long as you don’t let me see your profile, I’ll have no other choice, will I? Can’t even have a nice night laughing about bad bios while we’re getting drunk on some cheap wine.”

A sudden pang of guilt hits Marinette. She tries to hide it by averting her gaze. “It’s just … I’m sorry, but …”

“I’m just teasing you. Like I said, private space. Totally valid.”

Another space lost to one of hundreds of lies.

**Marinette:** hey is your profile still being shown on tinder?  
**Marinette:** because there’s an option to turn that off  
**Marinette:** and you should srsly consider using it  
**Chat Noir:** awww do i sense a jealous princess? 👸  
**Marinette:** …….no  
**Marinette:** alya is getting onto you tho  
**Chat Noir:** onto me?  
**Marinette:** well publicizing that you’re on tinder  
**Marinette:** which you should avoid, don’t you think?  
**Chat Noir:** why? who cares? 🧐

Marinette starts typing. Pauses. Because, well, who cares? Ladybug does. And Marinette? Marinette isn’t supposed to care, right? Marinette doesn’t care that Chat is being reckless. She especially doesn’t care about the fact that with his new goal of finding Ladybug, there would be no reason to still swipe on people. In fact, he was supposed to delete any match he never talked to.

But it’s none of her business. And really, the chance of him finding out who Ladybug is is close to zero anyway. So there’s no need for Marinette to feel strange heaviness in her chest. No reason at all.

She flinches when new messages come in, and she realizes that he must have watched her type in a message and delete it again thrice.

**Chat Noir:** but i’ll be a good kitty just for you and hide my profile 😽  
**Marinette:** don’t do it for me? do it for your final goal?  
**Marinette:** i mean, to find that girl?  
**Marinette:** you know, if you keep adding matches and conversations, you won’t make this easier???  
**Chat Noir:** yeaaaa that too  
**Chat Noir:** i’m just teasing you furgive me  
**Chat Noir:** i’ve already hidden my profile days ago 😹

“Was that a sigh of relief?” Tikki’s voice sounds next to her.

She holds back a shriek as she sits up in her bed, quickly locking her display. “No, of course not! I’m not relieved at all! That wouldn’t even make sense. He can do what he wants!”

Tikki nods. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, but I’m getting the feeling it’s about a certain superhero.”

For a few moments, Marinette only stares. “It wasn’t.”

“Sure.”

“It really wasn’t.”

Tikki’s smile is still way too telling, and she crosses her little arms as she floats in front of Marinette’s face. “Tonight is patrolling night. I just wanted to give you a friendly reminder.”

“Thanks. Appreciated.” Clearing her throat a few times, Marinette jumps up from her bed. “Just to make sure there’s no misunderstanding. The only relief I felt is the relief of not getting found out because of Chat’s carelessness.”

“Right.”

“Could you sound a bit more convinced, please?”

Tikki grins, passing Marinette by as she climbs the ladders to the balcony.

A cold autumn night awaits her. She freezes as soon as she steps a foot outside. Countless lights in the distance, darkness covering any spot it can reach. She exchanges one last look with Tikki before uttering those two words that make Paris her city. In her superhero suit, any trace of coldness is gone, and wind grazes her face as she starts jumping from roof to roof.

It doesn’t take long until she’s at the meeting spot, one of Paris’s taller buildings, but still inconspicuous enough to not draw any attention to itself. She can already see him from afar, sitting at the edge of the roof with his feet dangling down. The light of his screen the only source of light nearby. She ignores the tiny feeling setting in the pit of her stomach, and when she lands close to him, he doesn’t even look up.

“Busy talking to your fifty girls?” she greets him. She doesn’t sound bitter. She really doesn’t.

His cat ears twitch, and he finally looks up, a shimmer of something unnamable in his eyes. “Three girls are typing right now.”

Ladybug needs a second to get it. “That’s cheating.”

“Is it? Or am I being to _claw_ ver for your liking?”

“Do you really want to get this right by cheating?” That heavy feeling inside her chest lessens, being replaced by a kind of dread that makes her hands shake. Her instinct tells her to maintain distance between them. She doesn’t listen. Instead she sits down next to him, glancing at his baton. “Abusing your superhero weapons, too.”

“You never specified rules, love bug.”

At his broad grin, she lightly flicks his arm. “Gotta walk like a cat on eggs with you, don’t I?”

“How am I supposed to outsmart you otherwise? With such an _fur_ midable opponent, I’ll need a whole ton of luck.”

“Opponent,” she repeats, a little laugh escaping her. “I’m not your opponent.”

His responding smile is small and unsteady. He closes his baton, instead averting his gaze to overlook the city. There it is again – a heavy feeling that makes her breaths shorten, that makes her blood run cold. In truth, she is the villain of the story. In truth, she doesn’t even give him a chance.

In truth, it’s no use anyway.

The night is quiet, the moon all but gone from the dark sky, and she listens to her own heartbeat as syllables escape her lips, breaking in the silence that surrounds them. “Maybe you’d be disappointed.”

She feels his eyes on her. She feels a knot build in her stomach.

“No. I wouldn’t be.”

He sounds so certain, so absolutely unshakeable that a fragile laugh escapes her. It’s beautiful, and it’s heartbreaking. She’d love to be just as naïve, but she can’t afford it. Not in her position, not with her responsibilities. No response comes to mind. She doesn’t want to wake him up, doesn’t want to crush his dreams, but again, she’ll have to. It’s always her. Every single time, it has to be her.

So when he speaks up again, voice softening, she almost flinches. “Can I ask you something?”

“Depends.”

He snorts. He still isn’t looking at her, she notices. “What are you scared of?”

The question leaves her quiet. She glances down. They are so high up that she can’t even properly make out the people passing the building down at the ground. As Ladybug, even the sight of such a high cliff means nothing. As Ladybug, she can survive any wound, any attack. She has to. People depend on her, after all.

“I’m scared,” she finally manages, “that we’ll endanger everyone dear to us. Don’t you get it? It’s risky.”

“You don’t trust me? You don’t believe I can keep it a secret?”

She lifts her head to look at him, but he is still staring at the far-away horizon. His faux tail is moving slowly. Left, right. She wants to reach for his arm, but instead, she gives a deep sigh.

“Kitty, that’s not … You know I trust you.”

“But not enough so.”

“This isn’t about trusting you or not,” she whispers. “This isn’t about you. This isn’t about me. It’s about protecting others.”

“Is it? Or are those just pretty words?”

She feels taken aback as she stares at him. He still doesn’t meet her eyes.

“Just as pretty as yours,” she answers, tone sharp.

Finally, he looks at her. She can’t place the emotion running across his face. She doesn’t even dare to. Instead, she meets his eyes, refusing to look away. Her heart is aching, but there’s nothing she can do, and they are so close she could reach for his hand, give him the comfort she knows he needs, but she doesn’t do it.

Cruel, she thinks. She is cruel.

But so is he.

A loud bang in the distance. They both look up. Ladybug jumps to her feet faster than she can think, and any feeling is buried under her duties. When she nods at Chat Noir, he nods back without a second of hesitation, and she leads the way.

A rhythmic sound. Like something solid meeting a wall. Again, and again, and again, and with a frustrated groan, Marinette turns to the other side, pushing her blanket higher up. But the noise won’t go away. Even though she was dreaming about riding dinosaurs and talking to them like actual human beings (they were surprisingly empathetic too, listening for hours on end to her complaining about her newest project – a way too complicated dress – until at last a little ball of black turned up and caused a massive earthquake that killed even Marinette’s most trusted Albertosaurus. Just why does that seem familiar?). And because the noise still won’t stop, she eventually sits up straight, pushes the blanket off, and gets to her feet. Tikki is still snoring on her pillow. Which is totally not unfair at all.

Her whole body is still screaming for sleep, but her brain is annoyed enough to listen for the source of the noise. Her window, it seems. Which is odd, and also a bit scary, and with totally non-angry stomps, she descends the stairs to her room’s ground level, approaches the window –

And is greeted by a sudden face, a wide grin on its lips.

She shrieks and stumbles back, heart racing until she finally recognizes who that someone is. Chat Noir. Stupid, stupid cat. Trying her best to calm down her racing heart and hoping to god she didn’t wake up her parents, she yanks open her window, coming face to face with the superhero himself.

“What the hell are you doing here?” she hisses. “It’s, like, two a.m. –”

“Actually, it’s three.”

“It’s three!” she repeats. “I was peacefully sleeping! And you should have been too after –” She stops herself abruptly, searching for a quick way out of her slip of the tongue. Or slip of her thinking ability. Unfortunately, Chat catches on quicker than she would have liked.

“After?”

“I, uh, you didn’t turn up tonight. Here. So I thought you’d be busy. Fighting. Being a superhero. That stuff.”

“You were thinking about me? I’m _feline_ honored.”

At his ever so present grin, she feels her cheeks turn warm. Doesn’t have to mean anything, though. Only that Chat is being an annoying cat. Like he always is. “You’re right. It’s pretty worrisome that I’m getting used to your antics. Maybe you should stop visiting me at all.”

“And miss the chance to see my favorite match? Pardon me?” He leans a bit closer until only his head reaches inside the room. “You want to leave this kitty standing outside?”

“You’re sitting. On my railing. Without my permission.”

With innocent eyes, Chat blinks at her. “But you wouldn’t chase a poor stray kitty away, would you, princess?”

She rolls her eyes heavily. “Come in. Close the window behind you, please.”

Just those few words are enough to make his ears perk up, and his grin still perfectly in place, he jumps in, closing the window in one swift motion. It’s almost eerie, watching with how much ease he moves, how fluid any tiny motion seems. Her mind wanders to possibilities. She wonders if that someone behind his mask is just the same, or if is true self is just as clumsy as Marinette. She wonders if she would recognize him at all, or if he’d be a whole different person altogether.

She wonders if he ever wondered the same.

Her steps are careful as she turns on one of her floor lamps. “So, you’re here in the middle of the night because?” she asks to distract herself from her thoughts, and she watches as Chat heads for her chaise longue, nestling against her pillows. It reminds her of an actual cat having found its favorite spot, and his ears twitch as he looks at her.

“I need convincing,” he says as if announcing an embarrassing secret.

“Convincing for?”

For a moment, he stays silent. Then he buries his face in her pillows. “I, uh, I’d need – there’s – I know of three girls who wouldn’t … I couldn’t sleep because I was thinking … I can’t bring myself to unmatch them.”

She blinks a few times. “You woke me up in the middle of the night because you don’t have the guts to unmatch three girls.”

“Kinda?”

But shouldn’t it be easy? If his goal was as clear as he says, it would be no more than three taps for each girl. That’s it. Tiredness makes her thoughts sluggish, but the sudden unease growing in her stomach wakes her up in the most uncomfortable way possible, and she sits down at the other end of the chaise, stretching out her arm for him.

“Give me your baton.”

“You don’t – you don’t understand.” With a sigh, he sits up next to her. She lets her hand sink down as he opens the baton, showing her the screen. One of the conversations is opened. A long one at that. She glances at it, then at Chat. “They were genuinely nice!”

“But you know that they aren’t the girl you’re searching for?”

“Yeah.”

“For sure?”

“Yeah.”

“Unmatch them.”

“It’s not that easy,” he mumbles. “If I just – they’ll – what are they going to think?”

Marinette doesn’t want to take his baton. She doesn’t want to scroll up until she arrives at the start of one of Chat’s conversations. But she does so anyway. Seems to be a nice girl, judging from her messages. A really nice and pretty girl. No silly flirtations from Chat, and no half-hearted responses from her side. The kind of girl who would appreciate him. The kind of girl who brings out a whole new side of him. Seeing those messages feels like being privy to a part of him that she shouldn’t see at all, and she quickly keeps scrolling. It becomes harder to remind herself that he was just vetting her. Seeing how many interests line up to Ladybug’s. Seeing how many of her personality traits line up to Ladybug’s. But that girl is nice, and easy to talk to, and not a liar like Marinette is.

“You could meet her,” it escapes her lips, hard and dry.

“What? Why would I?”

“Because you seem to have a connection. You and her.”

“Well, yeah, she is nice. But she isn’t _her_.”

“What does it matter? What if Adeline would be a better match for you anyway? What if you could fall for her? Wouldn’t that be so much easier than a girl who tries to deceive you? Who can’t see you for who you really are?”

Her words were hard and sharp and leave cutting silence. She doesn’t dare look at him. Her fingers are shaking. She stops scrolling, stops looking at nice messages, at the obvious chemistry between them.

When Chat speaks again, his words seem so careful, so fragile that it breaks her own heart.

“She is nice. I know. But I already told you. There’s one problem. She isn’t _her_.”

That’s so stupid. So unbelievably stupid. No kind of love should make you that desperate. No kind of love should feel that hopeless. She wants to laugh, and she needs endless seconds to look up. Chat has been watching her, it seems. His eyes find hers immediately. Something inside her shudders, and she can’t tell what exactly it means. She doesn’t want to know.

“You’re hurting yourself,” she tells him.

“She’s worth it.”

“Is she? Is she, really?”

“Absolutely.”

Her fingers are still shaking. They are too close. He is still watching her, green irises wandering over her face, and she can’t help but wonder. If it wasn’t for their masks, if it wasn’t for the secrets they have to keep, what would she allow herself to do? Would she allow herself to glance at his lips? Would she allow herself to lean into his proximity? Would she allow herself to think of him every now and then?

But it’s no use thinking about it now. So she looks back at the screen again.

“Then unmatch her,” she says.

“I’ll …” He sighs. “I have to give her an explanation, though. At least those girls. They deserve one, don’t they?”

Those girls, he says. All those girls that could love him. Guilt threatens to consume her, and before it can do so, she hands him back the baton without looking at him. “What do you want to tell them? Sorry, I’m searching for a girl on here and I have no idea what she looks like, but you definitely aren’t her, so, bye?”

With a sigh, he leans his head back. “It would be the truth, wouldn’t it?”

“Yeah. But sometimes, some white lies are necessary.”

“White lies? I’m Chat Noir, not Chat Blanc.”

It was a weak quip, but it still makes a small smile build on her lips. “Every person lies sometimes. Even if it’s just to make someone feel better. To protect them, you know?”

“Protective lies,” he mumbles. “Sounds like a paradox.”

It isn’t, and he should know so himself. With his secret alter ego, he has no choice either, does he?

“You could tell her that you found someone else.”

“Wouldn’t that make her feel bad too?”

Unwittingly, her eyes wander to him, and again, he must have been looking at her for a longer while. They are so close she would only have to move a centimeter or two for their arms to touch. The thought makes something inside her freeze.

“Yeah,” she mumbles. “It would. But your only other choice would be to raise her hopes even more.”

The corner of Chat’s mouth twitches downwards. “This isn’t easy.”

“Never said it would be.”

She watches as his fingers move over the screen. He is typing in a message, and she is about to lean closer and read what he has to say when his voice, careful and quiet, reaches her ears. “You aren’t jealous, are you?”

Jealous, she hears it echo in her head. Jealous. “That’s ridiculous,” she snorts as she leans as far away as possible. “Jealous? Jealous because of you? Yeah, right. In your dreams, kitty.”

“I was just kidding. Of course you wouldn’t be jealous, princess.” Despite his lighthearted tone, there’s something strange to the grin he shows, and she feels her whole body turn hot. But before she can correct him vehemently, he sighs loudly yet again. “Feels awful, lying to her like that.”

“You got yourself into that pickle, so stop complaining.”

Maybe her words were a bit harsh, but she is still feeling her heart race in her chest, and when Chat looks at her, she wishes she could disappear just like that. “You’re pretty riled up for someone who isn’t jealous.”

“Chat. Drop it. I’m not jealous.”

“You’re blushing.”

“I’m not.”

“You are, though.”

“I’m about to kick you out for real.”

He snickers before concentrating on his baton again. “I a _paw_ logize. Please don’t kick this poor kitty out.”

“Then you’d better behave.”

She waits for him to text all of his three matches. She waits for the icily cold feeling in her veins to disappear, and it doesn’t. Her whole body feels strung to the breaking point, just waiting to escape from the danger, but when all is said and done, Chat yawns and puts his baton away.

“You think they’ll be okay?” he mumbles, staring at the wall across from them.

“I’m sure they will be. They are big girls.”

When their eyes meet again, there’s a curious shimmer in green irises. She feels frozen in place as he tilts his head. Too close, she thinks. As Ladybug, it’s easy to move away, to think of her duties and her responsibilities. Right now, she isn’t sure what that pang in her chest could mean, and she isn’t sure why her stomach is turning upside down either.

“Twenty-two left,” Chat says.

“Twenty-one,” she corrects.

“Right.”

Her heart jumps to her throat. The sudden need to escape is too pressing, and she stands up quickly, wiping her hands over her T-shirt. “I’ll, uh. I’ll be right back. Toilet.”

There’s a strange kind of grin on Chat’s face, and before she can think further about it, she turns on her heels and opens the lid to climb downstairs. For whatever reason, her heart keeps racing. For whatever reason, her thoughts won’t shut up. It would be so much easier for him to pick any other girl, and the thought alone leaves her head screaming. Everything would be easier if he’d just –

If this would just end.

She splashes cold water onto her heated cheeks. Chat’s wasn’t wrong – she is definitely blushing. Which is weird, and not something she wants to dwell on any further. Someone to talk to would be nice right now. Usually, Tikki is by her side pretty quickly in such situations. Right now, she’s asleep though, so –

Asleep. And on full display for anyone who happens to climb the steps to her bed.

Sudden panic overtakes her, and she races to her room as fast as possible, doing her best not to wake up her parents in the process. Soundlessly, she opens the lid to her room. Fear prickles in the back of her head. It would be over too soon, and too suddenly, and when she peeks inside the room, she sees a black figure on her chaise, curled up and unmoving.

Slowly, she enters her room. When she climbs up the stairs to her bed, her kwami isn’t lying on the bed anymore. Thank god. She must have woken up from their chatting and hidden somewhere safe.

Just as quietly, Marinette approaches Chat. He is sleeping, she realizes. His lungs are expanding steadily. His back is turned to her, his leather suit reflecting the dim lights in her room. Carefully, she sits down next to him, leaning closer to examine his face. Peaceful, eyes closed and lips slightly parted. Blonde hair falls into his face. Her fingers twitch to brush them away, but she doesn’t dare to. A cat slumbering on her chaise, buried between her pillows.

He couldn’t sleep, he said. He must have been tired. Tired of searching, and wondering, and thinking. She understands. She is tired too. Way too tired.

She is so tired, but resting is out of the question. At least for now, it is.

“Chat,” she whispers, lightly shaking his shoulder. “Wake up. You’ve got to get home.”

He murmurs in his sleep, trying to get away from her hand. Hesitantly, she reaches for his cat ears. They feel soft between her fingers, and she rubs them gently, leaning a bit closer.

“Chat. You can’t sleep here. You really have to go.”

“Just one minute,” he mutters onto one of her pillows.

“I can’t give you a minute.”

But she stills keeps rubbing his ear, watching with fascination as his whole body seems to relax. Her fingers wander to his silky hair, run through strands. She doesn’t think she was ever this close to him. She doesn’t think she ever allowed herself to be this close to him. Her fingers are trembling as she traces a path from his temple to his cheek. She hopes he doesn’t notice it. The tips of her fingers are icily cold, and when he suddenly moves his head, eyes still closed, she quickly retracts her hand. She doesn’t move otherwise, still leaned over him.

“Gonna kiss me awake, princess?” he says, amusement ringing in his voice.

“What?” she responds, breathless. “No. I won’t.”

He opens his eyes. She has to move away, she has to, but it still takes her way too long to do so. There’s something weird to Chat’s look as he slowly sits up, and it almost seems like he is moving a bit away from her. That’s understandable, too. It really is.

“Guess I fell asleep for a moment,” he mumbles, eyes heavy with tiredness.

“Guess you did.”

A beat. “Can I see you tomorrow?”

“How polite of you to ask.” She can’t look at him anymore, cheeks having turned hot yet again.

“You know me. Politeness is my middle name.”

“Is it now?”

Silence. She is way too awake all of a sudden. Her whole body keeps shivering. It takes her some time to look up as she hears him move, and from the window, Chat nods at her once more time.

“Thank you, Marinette.”

What for, she wants to ask. But by then, he is already gone, a shadow melting with the night. She stares after him, stares and stares until a soft voice wrenches her from her stupor.

“Are you okay, Marinette?”

 _I don’t know. Not really._ “Yeah.”

Tikki lands on her shoulder, but doesn’t say anything anymore. The night seems silent and lonely.

“You’ll have to tell me sooner or later.”

“Tell you what?”

“What that was about. Between you and Adrien.”

Luka raises his eyebrows at her, his smile small. “Why do I have to tell you about that?”

“Because it’s really weird.” Marinette focuses on the nail between her fingers, and on preferably not smashing her hand into pieces with her hammer if she can avoid it. “And because otherwise, Alya will annoy you until you come out with the truth.”

“I can handle Alya.”

“You say that now. Did you ever witness her in true journalist mode?”

“I did. When you and I became friends, for example.”

At that, Marinette glances at him. “What did she want to know back then? Did she want to do a background check? See if you’re a secret drug dealer?”

“Something like that.” Luka’s smile makes her think there’s something he has to hide, but she can’t put her finger on it. Quite literally – she is concentrating so hard by now that she sticks her tongue between her teeth. After a few successful hits, the nail is where it should be, and she gives a triumphant sound.

“I think I’ll become a furniture builder.”

“An IKEA builder,” Luka corrects.

“True. Dream job.”

He laughs, holding up another board for her, and just as she is about to hammer in the next nail, she hears a familiar voice from the doorframe.

“Hey. We’re going to order some food. Anything in particular that you want?”

And just like that, Marinette hits her finger instead of the nail. With a shriek, she shakes out her hand, pain shooting right through her every single joint. Adrien is by her side in a matter of seconds. She can’t even move away as he grabs her hand and holds it up to his face to examine the damage done.

“You okay?” he asks, looking at her, then back at her finger. “Doesn’t look too bad, but do you need some ice?”

“On it,” Luka says from behind them, steps echoing as he leaves the room.

“It’s not that rad.” She feels herself blush to the tips of her ears. “Bad, I mean. It’s bad. Not that bad, I mean!”

Her hand is still in his. His thumb rests on the back of her hand. She feels goosebumps rise on her skin. When she dares lift her eyes again, she sees Adrien intently stare at her fingers. The pain has already subsided, but she can’t bring herself to retract her hand either.

“Sorry,” she mumbles. “Guess I’m a scaredy-cat. You startled me.”

Adrien looks up to her, smiling. “A scaredy-cat. Am I that spooky?”

“Sure. Enough so to keep me up at night.”

It slipped out faster than she could think, and the words leave her in dreadful silence. She didn’t mean it like _that_. She really didn’t, oh god. But instead of being embarrassed, there’s something odd to Adrien’s expression. He just didn’t get it, she hopes. Thank god that he didn’t. Before she has to explain, Luka turns up again, and Adrien lets go of her hand quickly. She almost misses the feeling of his warmth.

She takes the bag of ice that is handed to her, watching as Adrien clears his throat and takes a step back. “So, Indian sounds good?”

“Awesome,” Marinette mumbles.

As soon as Adrien is gone, there’s a strange grin on Luka’s lips, and Marinette glares at him.

“What is it?”

Luka glances at the door, then at her. “He told me I should have done more.”

“Huh?”

“That other day, when you thought we got into a fight. He told me I should have done more.”

“What?” She presses the ice to her finger and knits her eyebrows. “Done what exactly?”

“Who knows?” Luka shrugs. “You tell me.”

It’s all Luka seems to be willing to tell her, and just as confused as before, she shakes her head.


	5. Chapter 5

“Completely suspicious.”

“Her?” Marinette reads the name off the photo, letting it roll over her tongue. “Elaine? Why?”

“She said her favorite dessert is cheesecake.”

“So?”

“Meaning, it can’t be her.”

Marinette raises her eyebrows at Chat. Well, true enough. Cheesecake isn’t her favorite dessert, but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t like it. Not that it matters anyway. She moves to one of the posters with the picture, writing down the name and a little annotation. “Cheesecake, suspicious”.

No, she doesn’t feel ridiculous at all. Thank you very much.

“What would have been the correct answer?” Marinette asks.

“I can’t tell you.”

She narrows her eyes, watching Chat sort through some other photos. “Because you don’t know the correct answer yourself?”

“Because you’re smart as heck,” he responds without skipping a beat, “and that girl would drag me to hell and back if you found out who she is.”

He’s right about that one, at least. She doesn’t blush. Blushing is forbidden territory, and she won’t make one step further into it. So she overlooks the posters again. “Brunette Annabelle said something about chocolate cookies once.”

“Mm-hmm.”

“You didn’t have to say anything about that. It’s in the ‘interesting details’ category.”

“Yep.”

“If you ask me, knowing whether someone likes chocolate cookies or not isn’t that interesting. It’s rather trivial.” She gasps. “Almost unnecessary to know.”

“Uh-huh.”

“So,” she goes on, “is that our wanted girl’s favorite dessert?”

“More so than cheesecake.” He sharply lifts his head. “Hey! Curiosity killed the cat. Or rather, this cat in particular. Stop killing me!”

And he was right. She does like chocolate cookies better than cheesecake. Not her favorite either, though. She has no idea if she ever told Chat, and if she did, it must have been in passing. Almost scary to think that the remembers such tiny details.

Almost scary to think how close he could be to the truth.

“Just so you know,” Marinette says, keeping her voice steady. “By letting me help you, I’m part of the elimination committee. I know who you are eliminating. And who you aren’t.”

“Yeah?”

“So I’ll know who this girl is. When we’re finished eliminating, that is. Or I’ll know who you’d choose, at least.” She tilts her head. “So wouldn’t you be dead kitty meat anyway?”

His cat ears twitch. “Already thought about that.”

“You did. Found a solution too, or did you only strain your _purr_ brain?”

He grins broadly. “Your puns are really making me weak as a kitten, princess.”

“Well,” she returns his grin, “your _claw_ ful humor must have rubbed off on me.” She finger-guns him. “You get it? Rubbed? Like a cat?”

With a gasp, he puts a hand above his heart. “Dog my cats! Good for me cats have nine lives. I’m already dying in positive shock.”

Marinette laughs at the whole ridiculousness. “So? What’s the plan?”

“Plan?”

“So I don’t find out what you found out.”

Chat hums, then nods slowly. “You’ll stop helping me as soon as we arrive at the top ten.”

“Top ten? You’re making this sound like a competition.”

This time, Chat’s smile is weak. “It kind of is a cat’s cradle, after all.”

She doesn’t feel bad. Not at all. It’s the only reason she can keep looking him in the eye. “We’re at fifteen now,” she notes.

“Exactly.”

“You won’t need my help anymore when there’re only ten left?”

“Of course I’d _need_ it,” he groans, falling back to the floor where he keeps lying like a dead cat, “but I can’t risk it.”

That’s considerate. Yet, she doesn’t know how to feel. “Pity. I almost got used to all those posters. They have a special kind of aesthetic. Hectic aesthetic, maybe.”

Chat snorts. He’s still on the floor, and he wipes his head from left to right as if searching for something. “Hey. Speaking of posters, wasn’t there a bunch of photos on your wall?”

“Photos?”

“Of some model.”

Marinette flinches. She’s glad Chat can’t see the panic in her eyes. “Um. I removed them an eternity ago, not that big a deal, you know.”

At that, Chat sits up again, eyes narrowed and elbows coming to rest on his crossed legs. “They were there three months ago.”

She stares. “You weren’t in my room three months ago.”

He stares back. “I peeked into your window.”

“Um – ew?”

“There was an akuma attack nearby. Wanted to make sure you were all right.”

They are meters apart. She could stop, she really could, but something convinces her to act otherwise and utter what she is thinking. “And was I all right?”

“Yep! At home and _purr_ fectly fine.” His smile is way too bright.

And she knows, no matter how she twists and turns it, that it’s a complete lie.

Now that she allows herself to see it, there is no denying the way his shoulders tense, and how suspiciously innocent his expression seems, and how his cat ears twitch slightly. She should stop here and now. Don’t press this further. So she doesn’t. It’s too dangerous, and she wills herself not to think about who visited her three months ago. Just after their graduation – it doesn’t matter. Just one chance for someone to see her room – it doesn’t matter. And she knows for a fact that it can neither be Nino nor Luka – but it doesn’t matter. Not at all.

“He was your classmate, right?” Chat goes on. There is something probing to his words, something scrutinizing to the way his eyes scan her, and she needs a second to get it. When she does, her whole body tenses at once.

“Who?” Her voice is too high, too shrill, and she plasters on a smile.

“That model. Adrien Agreste, right?”

“Who?” she repeats, and because that’s a pretty stupid answer, she laughs in the most convincing way she can muster. “Sure! Him. Adrien. Yeah. Classmates, that’s what we were.”

“Did something happen? For you to put down those photos.”

“Um, no?” Still laughing, she picks up some random photos of girls. Blonde Annabelle, Valerie, Esmé, Liana, Sylvie, Juliette, Lola, Ambre, and the photos start to blur before her eyes as she stubbornly tries to escape his questioning looks.

“Wow. Princess, I gotta say, you’re a bad liar.”

That’s somehow ironic, but when she hesitantly lets the photos sink down, she is met by genuine worry. A bad liar, he says.

Maybe she just chooses when to lie badly.

“Can I be honest with you?” she asks before she can think twice about it.

“Sure thing.” Something softens in his eyes, and he leans closer. “Let me guess. That model had you absolutely _kitten_ for a while, and you couldn’t resist staring at his photos every day?”

For a moment, she wonders if he could read the truth right from her eyes, and flushing so hard she feels her whole head turn hot, she stares at him. “I … Well, I …”

But his reaction is just as strange. The longer she searches for words, the wider his eyes grow, and she gives up when he interrupts her frantic attempts at forming an answer.

“I was just kidding,” he says, a shimmer of uncertainty in his eyes.

“Yeah!” she quickly replies. “Yep. Me too. Just kidding! Totally kidding.”

“Oh.” He gives a weak laugh. “Oh! Yeah, true. No way you’d fall for that pretty boy.”

At his condescending tone, she feels her face fall, and she knits her eyebrows. “What is that supposed to mean?”

Chat shrugs. “Nothing much he could offer, right?” Even though he was the one who started it, he looks uncomfortable as he glances at the poster in front of him again. “Anyway –”

“You’re talking down someone you don’t even know.” She narrows her eyes, blood slowly starting to boil. “Isn’t that odd, Mister ‘I Really Don’t Want Those Girls To Feel Bad Please Help Me Marinette I’m Such A Good Soul’?”

“Well.” Chat starts looking at anything but her. “Those girls are nice, at least.”

“And Adrien isn’t?”

“He’s just some cheap model. Whatever.”

Marinette stares. Then, with the greatest strength she can muster, she lunges out and throws one of the pictures at Chat. When one of the corners hits him right on the forehead, it surprises him so much that he falls back with a little scream.

“What was that for?” he blurts out as he quickly sits up again.

“You don’t even know him!” she shoots back.

“You’re awfully quick to defend him, huh?”

“And you’re awfully quick to arrive at conclusions, huh?”

“Maybe I saw more sides of him than you did.”

“Like hell you did! How would you?”

“Well, how would _you_ know him? You only saw what he wanted you to see, right?”

“Of course I know him! If I didn’t, I wouldn’t have been in love with him for goddamn years!”

Chat stares. Marinette stares. Her brain goes on spontaneous hiatus. Because the longer their staring goes on, the more flabbergasted Chat looks, and the more Marinette feels like dying. She doesn’t know what to say. Running away would be a really tempting, but not all too possible option, so instead, she settles for burying her face in her hands and taking a deep breath.

“He’s a good person, okay?” she mutters.

“You’re kidding, right? You have to be kidding.” Despite his harsh words, Chat’s voice is soft and weak, at the edge of breaking. It doesn’t really make sense, but she doesn’t dare look up either.

“I know I’m pathetic, okay? But yes, I’m trying to get over him, and yes, it’s going great. Thank you for asking. I’m totally fine. It’s not that difficult, you know! Not like I have to see him constantly and have him around. Nope, not me. And even if he is around, it’s not hard at all to just, you know, forget about it, and –”

“Adrien? Really, Adrien?” His voice climbs an octave higher. “But that doesn’t even make any sense!”

She sharply looks up. “Yes, I know that someone like him noticing someone like me doesn’t make much sense, but you really don’t have to rub it in!”

“Wait, so that means – because of – that’s why you are on Tinder? Because of Adrien?”

“Oh my god. You’re making it sound so much worse,” she mumbles, hiding her heated cheeks behind her hands yet again. “Yes, kinda? But also, not really? I just wanted to finally get over it, you know? Get over being stupid and naïve, and –”

She heard Chat move, but she didn’t look up, and when she suddenly feels cold leather touching her hands, a shudder runs through her. Gently, he pulls her hands away, instead lying his own hands on her cheeks. She has no choice but to look up into Chat’s face. There’s something too serious to his expression. There’s something too honest about the pain flashing over his face. He’s crouching in front of her, and her hands sink down until they land in her lap, uselessly resting there while his eyes won’t let go of hers.

“Adrien Agreste doesn’t deserve you,” he tells her, soberly, steadily.

Her heart makes a wild jump. He hasn’t let go of her yet. The feeling of his hands on her face is both thrilling and too intimate, but she can’t bring herself to move away.

“Then who does?” she hears herself whisper.

Eyes flickering over her face. To her lips. Everything inside her is burning up. Every fiber of her being is starting to scream. She feels her hands cramp. Her body is still, waiting, and waiting, and waiting, and when he leans forward, when he finally leans forward –

His lips on her forehead, warm and soft, only a second. When he leans back again, he lets go of her. She feels like being drenched in icily cold water, too little air in her lungs.

“Not me either,” he says before getting up in one smooth motion. She can’t properly see his face anymore as he approaches her window, giving her a two-finger salute before melting into the early night.

And there she is, her heart racing and her breath ragged and her thoughts uselessly floating through her head.

She slowly looks back at the posters before her. Countless unnecessary facts about those girls, and none of them is who he is actually searching for. She feels like crying as she collects one photo after another, and she doesn’t think about anything as she rolls up the posters. She feels Tikki’s eyes on her, but the kwami doesn’t utter a word. She’s glad.

**Marinette:** hey  
**Marinette:** just wanted to ask you to pl  
**Marinette:** sorry sent that too soon uhhh im not nrvous  
**Marinette:** *nervous anyway  
**Marinette:** please don’t tell adrien anything about it? no idea how often you see him or anything but please don’t  
**Marinette:** 🙏  
**Chat Noir:** lips are sealed  
**Chat Noir:** 🤐  
**Marinette:** huh. surprisingly easy to convince you  
**Marinette:** you don’t like him very much do you?  
**Chat Noir:** hmmmmm no idea what you are talking about princess  
**Marinette:** huh. well  
**Marinette:** purrhaps you are jealous? 🤔  
**Marinette:** hahahah jk jk  
**Marinette:** sorry that wasn’t funny  
**Marinette:** okay i’ll stop talking now  


Her last message was sent hours ago. She reads their conversation over again, but it doesn’t help much. There’s something too awkward about her messages, and she cringes when reading them. With a sigh, she puts the phone away. Chat isn’t responding the way he usually does, his upbeat energy entirely gone, and she can’t help but worry. Quite a lot. She never knew Adrien was that much of a heavy topic for him. Then again, she never made Adrien a topic. Out of caution alone.

It’s kind of weird to be here, on a balcony that she can call her own somehow. It feels entirely different than her balcony at her parents’ home. Of course it does. No matter how much she tries to, she just can’t imagine Chat crouching on this railing right here, grinning at her. Will be a tad difficult anyway, as long as Alya is living in the exact same apartment too.

Getting used to a new normal is strange, and unfamiliar, and a bit scary to think about.

Marinette hears the door open behind her. She half-expects it to be Luka joining her, but when she turns her head, she is instead greeted by blonde hair and a somehow tense expression. Adrien leans against the railing next to her, crossed arms resting on the metal.

“Everything all right in there?” she asks carefully.

“Yeah. Just …” His eyes twitch to her before quickly looking away again. “Just needed a break.”

It’s weird. Everything about this is. She guesses she will never stop feeling her heart beat wildly, being that close to him. She guesses she will never get used to it. She wants to reach out for him, wants to gently lie her hand on his arm, and finds that she can’t.

“Thanks for your help,” she brings out instead, turning to the view before them again.

“Don’t mention it.”

“It’s not something I can take for granted. Moving is exhausting.”

“That’s what friends are here for, right?”

Familiar words. At least there’s this little thing to hold on to. It doesn’t hurt as much as it did the first few times, but when she takes a glance at Adrien, she is surprised by how intensely he is looking at her. She feels herself shrink under his eyes and clears her throat.

“Yes! Yeah. Exolutely. Absactely. Totally!”

Damn it.

Despite her reverting to her stuttering fourteen-year-old self, a smile builds on his lips. “Friends can ask each other for favors. And they can tell each other anything. Right? No matter what it is about.”

Sure thing. If it doesn’t involve making everything awkward, that is. And being rejected in a matter of seconds. “Depends on the friend,” she therefore mutters, and she regrets her words in an instant.

“Does it?”

“Well, yes?” She feels her cheeks heat up. “I wouldn’t tell Alya the same things as Nino. And there are things I’d rather talk about with Luka than with Alya, for example.”

“A hierarchy.”

“I wouldn’t … No.”

“A ranking.”

“No, you can’t just rank your friends.”

She isn’t sure if he is teasing her. There’s something far too pressing to his eyes. “Then, who’s your top ten? Without ranking them, of course.”

Familiar words. This time, they make her heart tremble with fear. But it’s only a coincidence, of course, and she’s stupid to even _think_ about such a connection.

“That’s silly,” she mumbles as she averts her gaze from Adrien. “I wouldn’t –”

“Am I in your top ten?”

Her head turns without her will. An autumn breeze catches his hair. She doesn’t know whether his eyes glimmer with playfulness or desperation, and she takes the safer option.

“Of course you are.”

Despite only taking all of it as a joke, she feels her cheeks warm up.

“So, there is a top ten after all.”

“I’m just joking. You seem weirdly fixated on countdown lists. A secret hobby?”

That was a bit rude, but before she can apologize wildly, Adrien’s smile grows until it spreads over his whole face. “Yep. Got a ton of them hanging on my walls. They calm my nerves.”

She has to return his smile. “Did you know that there’s a term for a day to day countdown?”

“No way. What’s it called?”

She leans closer, lowering her voice. “A calendar.”

“Oh my god,” he whispers back. “A calendar.”

“Yep. Though I don’t think you can have a top ten of days.”

“You’re underestimating me severely, Marinette.”

Her name on his lips makes her shudder, and they’ve moved so close that she can almost feel his warmth swash over to her. “Okay. Pray tell.”

“Christmas is in the top five at least, of course. But that’s a given. Who doesn’t love Christmas?”

“Anyone who’s listened to eighteen years’ worth of Christmas songs. Year after year.”

Adrien gasps. “But Christmas wouldn’t be Christmas without annoying Christmas songs!” Then, hesitantly, he smiles at her. It looks almost bashful. “How _cold_ of you.”

She snorts when she gets it. “I’m so _snowy_.”

Instantly, his whole face lights up. The reaction is enough to make her knees weak. “You should be. It’s very rude- _olf_ to say anything bad about Christmas.”

“Well, you know me. Always rebelling without a _Claus_.”

“Hey, bros. Could use a hand for Alya’s wardrobe.”

Nino’s sudden voice makes Marinette wince violently, and she turns sharply around. “Sure thing!” she squeaks. “We’ll be there!”

“Yup! Just a second,” Adrien adds, and it’s somehow weird to hear him just as startled as she feels.

“Great. Thanks.” Nino gives them a thumbs up before disappearing inside again, and the both of them are left in weird silence. It’s not like she never spoke with Adrien in the last few months, but it has been a long time since she felt that uninhibited while doing so, and this new kind of feeling makes something funny twist in her stomach.

“So,” he starts.

“So,” she provides.

“I’ve got a friend duty for you.”

She blinks at him. “Okay?”

“That’s how it works, right?” He ducks his head as he sends her a sheepish look. “That’s what friends do. Ask each other for favors.”

She isn’t quite able to follow, but nonetheless, she nods. “Sure. What’s my friend duty?”

“You tell me when I hurt you. No matter how much or how little, you tell me. Okay?”

Marinette doesn’t know what to make of the concern in his eyes. But like she said, she’s a good enough liar when she tries, and it’s sweet of him to be that considerate anyway. So she smiles. “Okay.”

“Good.”

They look at each other for another few awkward moments. Instead of turning around and leaving, Adrien reaches for her hand, a faint smile on his lips as he squeezes it. The spot where he touched her is left burning, and when he leaves the balcony, she stares after him, her heart beating up to her throat.

Odd.

**Marinette:** i kept thinking  
**Marinette:** (because you won’t respond all of a sudden?? thanks)  
**Marinette:** but how do you know adrien that well?  
**Marinette:** doesn’t make much sense, like  
**Marinette:** does ladybug have a lot of civilian friends? i think not  
**Marinette:** also, you don’t like him that much, so you aren’t even friends am i right?  
**Marinette:** what is he, your sworn enemy??  


“Those are a lot of questions,” Tikki says next to her.

“Good observation.”

“Thank you. I wanted to imply that you’re awfully interested in what connection there is between Adrien and Chat Noir.” Tilting her head, Tikki looks at her. “Did I subtly convey my true intention, or was I too discreet?”

Marinette raises her eyebrows at her. “You’re a master of subtlety, Tikki.”

Her face lights up. “Oh, really? Thank you!”

“You’re welcome.” Biting the inside of her cheek, Marinette stares back at her phone. Because she knows very well what Tikki wants to say. She knows so well that her stomach turns, but it’s too late anyway. The messages are sent, and her fingers still, and she keeps staring at the screen.

She could still change the topic. But even then, it could reveal something she doesn’t want to be revealed. If he was grateful for a distraction, what could it mean? And if he wasn’t, what could that mean?

Does she really want to know?

He starts typing.

It’s so surprising that the phone almost slips from Marinette’s fingers, and she can only catch it with the help of Tikki who quickly pushes it into her hands again. They exchange a look, and then the response tumbles in.

**Chat Noir:** you’re right, i don’t know him that well  
**Chat Noir:** sorry 😿  


Sorry? Sorry for what? The next look she exchanges with her kwami is a worried one, and Marinette exhales soundly.

**Marinette:** you’re furgiven. just this once  


There’s nothing more she can add, nothing that would make sense, and there’s no response. It’s weird. Even weirder is the fact that she doesn’t like this. Not at all. That it makes her restless and worried. That she got used to his endless text messages, and that she got used to their easily flowing conversations, and that right now, it almost seems like he is closing off from her.

“Is everything all right with him?” she whispers helplessly, looking at Tikki again. “You know if he is all right, right? You talked to Plagg, didn’t you?”

In response, her kwami winces slightly. “Uh, sure, sure. He’s fine!”

“You’re a terrible liar.”

“No. No, I’m a great liar. The greatest. The very bestest, greatest liar ever!”

Marinette sends her a hard look. With a twitching grin, Tikki withstands it. Not for long before she gives a sigh and lets her antennas droop.

“Even if I knew, I couldn’t tell you, right?”

At that, Marinette props her chin on her hand. Tikki’s not wrong. Still, concern consumes her nerves, and she is about to protest when Tikki speaks up again.

“Do you care for Chat Noir that much?”

The weird shimmer in Tikki’s eyes isn’t lost on her. Nevertheless, Marinette gives an indignant sound. “Of course I do! How wouldn’t I?”

“You care a whole lot, though. A whole, whole lot.”

“Yes, I do. And?”

“Just because he isn’t paying you, Marinette, as much attention as he did for the past two weeks, you’re worried he isn’t fine? You never cared about that before.”

Marinette stares. Her whole body protests. She gasps for air, jolting upright in an instant. Her phone lies forgotten on the table as she shakes her head with an incredulous laugh. “I would have – as Ladybug – he’s my partner, of course I would worry anyway!”

“But,” Tikki goes on, big innocent eyes directed at her, “isn’t that good? That he is paying you less attention? Because, logically, that would mean that the chance of him finding out about you is lower, right?”

Marinette presses her lips to a thin line. “You aren’t wrong.”

“Which means I’m right.”

“Yes. It does.”

“You don’t look too happy about that.”

With a groan, Marinette puts a hand over her forehead. Because she can’t think properly about it. Because thinking about it would reveal a truth to her she isn’t sure how to handle, and honestly, she has known for quite some time already. She should have never changed anything. She should have declined his plea for help, and she should have left things where they were, safe and unchanging.

But here she is, slowly starting to miss Chat Noir. Here she is, being jealous of random girls. Here she is, hoping he’ll show up at her window with that same silly grin he likes to her show her that often. Here she is, trusting him that much, enjoying their time together when they aren’t trying to protect this city, being worried just because he happens to text her less than he usually does.

This is bad. This is really bad.

But it’s going to be over soon anyway.

“Chat deserves more than a lying friend,” Marinette eventually manages, letting her hand sink down again. “And after that whole fuss is over, there won’t be a reason for us to see each other that often anyway. Problem solved.”

“And everything will go back to normal?”

They both know the answer. Marinette can see it in Tikki’s eyes. Yet she gives a curt nod. “It will.”

She can’t really concentrate. Every time she starts a new sketch, her thoughts wander elsewhere, arriving nowhere anyway. At least it’s warm underneath her blanket, even if the night comes with chilly breezes. She takes a deep breath. Doesn’t think about Chat Noir. Doesn’t think about Chat Noir. Doesn’t think –

“Hey.”

She winces and looks up. Speaking of the devil. In the shadows, she can’t make out his face, and she squints to see him properly.

“Chat,” she says. “Didn’t think you’d join me today.”

“Can’t miss a chance to see my favorite match, can I?”

His words are dangerously charming. For a moment, his face is still plunged in darkness. It takes seconds until he moves, jumping from the railing and entering the dim lights of her lanterns. With some swift movements, he arrives at her side, peeking into her sketchbook.

“New designs?”

“Yeah.” She doesn’t like the careful atmosphere surrounding them. Lightly, she flicks his nose before putting her sketchbook away, and he winces back with a little sound. “Curiosity killed the cat, though.”

At that, he smiles. “Maybe you could design something for me?”

“Sure thing. What would you like? A fashionable hat?”

“Any _purr_ esent of yours is an honor.”

She pushes the blanket off. “Right, charmer. Let’s get to work, shall we?”

Marinette doesn’t mention it. She doesn’t ask why he responds that sporadically all of a sudden. She doesn’t ask if he took her advice to heart and thought about meeting one of the other girls because that would have been the wisest choice. She doesn’t ask if he is close to the truth, or if he is giving up. Instead, she listens to him, listens to what he has to say about girls she doesn’t know. That she doesn’t want to know.

He points to one of the posters, sniffing quietly. “Can’t be her.”

“Amber?” Marinette leans forward with a hum. “You’ve got four points speaking for her. She’s bold, she doesn’t hold back, she’s intimidating,” she raises an eyebrow at that, “and she … is only punctual when it’s something important?”

Okay. Not as if he’s wrong.

“Yep. But,” Chat sends her a long look, “she likes horror movies.”

“Okay?”

“Our girl doesn’t like horror movies.”

How the hell would he know? They never talked about movies, or watched movies for that matter. Not as if he’s wrong there either. Still, it’s somehow eerie, and Marinette holds herself back from making a face. “You sure?”

“Absolutely. Trust me.”

“Too bad. I started to like Amber.” Marinette pouts. “She has a dog.”

“You like dogs?”

“Better than cats.” It slipped out too fast, and she quickly looks up. “Uh – no offense.”

“Offense taken!” Chat squints. “What do dogs have that cats don’t?”

“Gratefulness, maybe?”

“I _am_ grateful.”

“You’re not a …” She interrupts herself. “Well, I mean, you’re not an actual cat?”

He pushes his lower lip forward and crosses his arms as he glares at her. “Being called only half a cat! What an appalling thing to say, Marinette.”

“Okay, okay,” she sighs. “You’re the exception. I like you even better than dogs.”

His expression lightens up in a matter of seconds. “I knew you’d come to your senses.”

“Stop looking like you swallowed the canary! You basically blackmailed me to say that.”

“You know in your heart it’s the truth.” He grins at her, then points to one of the posters. “Also, can’t be blonde Annabelle.”

Her eyes follow his gesture. “Because?”

“Her favorite color is green.”

“And our girl’s favorite color is?”

“Pink.”

He didn’t even skip a beat. Marinette stares. That’s something she’d absolutely never tell him as Ladybug. Because that’s absolutely information that could jeopardize her. A clue she shouldn’t give away. Maybe trivial, but maybe not, so – something she’d never tell him. She startles when he lifts his eyes to return her look, and quickly clearing her throat, she glances at her hands.

“You know a lot of little details about her, huh?”

“I’ve known her for a while,” he says.

Or did she let it slip? There’s no way to remember if she ever, in her five years of knowing him, told him her favorite color in passing. She wouldn’t have, though. Because even her thirteen-year-old self knew how dangerous that could be. So – how? Is he bluffing? Why would he? Or just a lucky guess? But getting it right would be too unlikely, wouldn’t it?

Not dwelling on it any further, she proceeds to reach for Amber’s photo. “So, no Amber. No blonde Annabelle. We’re making progress, huh?”

Chat hums, prowling around to get a look at his posters. Some of them are messy as hell, red lines connecting points in ways that don’t even make sense. Some of them are filled with tiny symbols Marinette can’t really make sense of either. So all in all, it’s a mess. The true picture of Chat’s overcomplicated thinking process, maybe. Or just a result of him having no clue at all who she could be.

Which is good, she supposes.

“Liana is way too nice.”

“Too nice?” she repeats.

“Yup. _Way_ too nice.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” She controls her voice. Doesn’t let it get louder than it already is. Because such a statement doesn’t affect her at all. Nope, it doesn’t. “Is our girl not nice?”

“Not to me.”

He said it matter-of-factly, and all of a sudden, she feels so bad that a lump builds in her throat. “Oh.”

“I mean, she is. She generally is nice.” That smile on Chat’s lips is so adoring that a shiver runs over her spine. “But she’s quick-witted too. Keeps me on my paws, you know?”

“Someone to rival your punny brain _paw_ er?” She didn’t think too hard about it, didn’t think it might have been wiser not to say anything, and when the same adoring smile is directed at her – at Marinette – she feels heat coat her chest.

“Someone who hits back without _paw_ sing.”

“One of a kind, huh?” She has to avert her gaze.

“She really is.”

It takes some seconds until she dares watch him again. He’s furrowed his brows as he mumbles facts she never knew she told him, checking them with all those little details he wrote down. That much work for nothing. That much work to only be deceived. He gingerly removes some more photos, and then he sighs, eyes still on his posters.

“Ten.”

“Huh?”

“The top ten. There they are.”

She glances down. A quick count makes her eyebrows shoot up. “I counted nine.”

Shrugging, he keeps staring at the photos. “Nine, then.”

“Broke your promise, did you?”

She only meant it as a joke, but there is a flash of something far more serious as their eyes meet. “Sorry,” he says. “Guess I did.”

Something burning grows inside her chest. The smile on her lips hurts too much, but she wills herself to keep looking at him. “So, this is goodbye, huh? No more almost nightly visits.”

He blinks at her. “Who said that?”

“Um – you? Remember your top ten rule?”

“Yeah,” he says. “But doesn’t have to mean I can’t see you anymore, now does it?”

Marinette gives a short laugh. “Why would you want to see me?”

“Because we’re _fur_ ends. Right?” Despite his pun, there’s something too vulnerable to his smile, and she resists the urge to reach for his face.

“Sure,” she whispers. “We are.”

His words aren’t supposed to hurt. Maybe it’s just the familiarity. Maybe there is nothing more to it. She watches as he rolls up his posters, and she watches as he says his goodbye, disappearing through the window like he always does, taking their hours of senseless work with him, hours of wasted time.

“It’s over, isn’t it?” Tikki tells her as she joins Marinette. “You’re officially, what’s the appropriate saying? Off the hook.”

“Yeah,” Marinette replies. “I’m glad.”

“Whichever hook we’re referring to right now.”

“A metaphorical one.”

“Right! Metaphors! Another scary topic I will yet have to study.”

At least her kwami’s joking can make her feel a tad better.


	6. Chapter 6

“One of them told me to either call her my girlfriend or, and I quote, ‘get the fuck out’.”

Marinette bursts out laughing. “I bet it’s Lola. Red flags everywhere.”

“What are you? A _fur_ tune teller?” Chat jabs her in the side. “And you didn’t tell me because?”

“Because I was sure you can see red flags for yourself, duh.”

“I totally can.” He blinks at her a few times. “Care for an example?”

With a snort, she rolls her eyes. “That one time she texted you she was literally thinking about flinging a crying baby across the whole store because it was getting on her nerves? Who would do that? Babies are precious and cute.”

“I thought that was joke.” Despite this, Chat makes a face.

“Well. If you’d chosen her …” She shrugs. “Even a dead cat will bounce off if dropped from high, they say. You’d been fine! Totally fine.”

“I’d rather let sleeping cats lie,” he mutters. Then he sends her a longer look. It’s a bit cold on her balcony, but her thick sweater and two jackets prevent her from freezing, and anyway, feeling his eyes on her like that warms her up in a matter of seconds. “Forgive me for never asking, but how is it going with your Tinder experience?”

That makes her flinch. She has lied so many times in the last two weeks that it’s somehow freeing to choose the truth this time. “Abysmal. A _cat_ astrophe.”

Through the shimmer of amusement, there is a tinge of concern to Chat’s expression.

“No, not that bad.” She sighs. “To be honest, the only times I went online lately were because of you.”

And that sounds a bit clingier than she would have liked. She clears her throat and looks away from him, doesn’t react as she hears him slide closer.

“Only for me? What an honor.”

“Don’t get cocky. I was just keeping my promise.”

When she glances at him, his smile is softer than she expected. “Are you up for a little adventure?”

“Adventure?”

“It’s a surprise.”

He holds out his hand for her. Only hesitantly, she takes it. With soft pressure, he squeezes her hand, and it reminds her of something, of someone, but the feeling is fleeting and gone in a matter of seconds.

She gives a surprised sound when he pulls her closer, and he catches her before she can fall, eventually carrying her in bridal style. In a first instinct, her arms wrap around his neck. A knot builds in her stomach, makes her freeze from head to toe, but they are still so close. Close enough that she can see any tiny detail, every freckle and every little imperfection on his face.

He winks at her, and then, with her in his arms, he leaps up to the roof.

Of course she knows the feeling as Ladybug. Flying over rooftops isn’t a new experience, and being in Chat’s arms isn’t either, but it’s still thrilling. Because she trusts Chat with all she has. Because she feels safe in his arms, and the warmth he emits makes her heart bounce in her chest.

Marinette guesses their destination before they arrive, and eventually, Chat lands on the very top of the Eiffel Tower, even higher up than the tourist levels. Only some beams connected to each other offer them a place to sit. Her heart is racing in exhilaration as Chat gently lets her down.

“Too high up for you?” he asks.

But the view is incredible. Endless little lights drenching a sleepy city in silence. She was here often enough as Ladybug, and as Marinette, it’s a whole new experience. With how peaceful the city is, and with how adrenaline clouds her mind. But still, the feeling of Chat’s hand on her arm gives her a sense of security that almost makes her want to laugh. So she looks at him.

“You’ll catch me if I fall, right?”

A smile twitches onto his lips. “Always.”

He needs no more than a few seconds to sit down next to her. Of course there’s nothing he has to fear. As Ladybug, there isn’t either. She can save herself from anything. Can avert any situation. Not as Marinette, though. As Marinette, she’ll have to face any challenge head-on, whether she likes it or not.

“That’s your surprise?” she says, sending him a sheepish smile. “I almost expected a romantic dinner on a rooftop.”

He grins at her. “I’ll keep that one in mind, princess.” He’s still so close their arms touch, and while she supposes he slid that close to give her a sense of security, the proximity makes heat swell in her chest. “Nighttime is the most romantic time of day no matter the place anyway, right?”

“Ew. Stop your gross flirting.”

“Gross? Marinette, you’re hurting my feelings right _meow_.”

“You’re not funny at all.”

“Yet you’re smiling.”

She didn’t even notice. Now that she does, she can’t smother it. “Well. Can’t say anyone ever carried me to the Eiffel Tower in the middle of the night.”

“A first for everything, huh?”

“Guess so.”

Wind sweeps through her hair. It’s crazy that with Chat by her side, she isn’t scared at all. It’s crazy, and also only the truth.

“Are you making progress?” she asks, still overlooking the city. Not as its protector, but just as one of its many citizens.

“With?”

“Sorting through your top nine. Lola is out of the picture, I’d guess.”

“Can’t tell you much more than that, can I?”

She makes a sound. “I kinda got attached to those girls. They were all very nice. Except for Lola, maybe.” Her voice becomes a low mumble. “Can’t ever forgive her for wanting to hurt poor babies.”

“Gotta admit,” he says. “Without your help, it’s getting a bit difficult.”

“You have your very useful posters. I’m sure they’ll help you out.”

Chat gasps. “Was that sarcasm? Marinette!”

“Sarcasm? Me?” She flutters her eyelashes at him. “No. Never.”

“Trying to deceive me like that, huh? _Fur_ tunately for you, this kitty knows you better than you think.”

For whatever reason, that makes all blood freeze in her veins. She gives a snort. “Bet you don’t even know my favorite pastry.”

“Macarons.”

She blenches. Keeps staring at him. Before she can become a stuttering mess, he speaks up again.

“Guessed correctly?”

Her head is spinning. The safer option is a lie once again though, and she curses him for pushing her down this road again, and again, and again.

“No, sorry. Croissants.”

“Plain croissants?”

“Yep. As plain as they can get.”

She can’t keep looking him in the eye without feeling horrible, and instead she looks at Paris’ nightly lights again. It’s beautiful up here. She can’t even understand herself. Nothing is changing just because she is seeing Chat Noir as Marinette. But somehow, everything is. She’s so high up that only one false move would make her fall for good. Down the abyss, down into darkness.

The only real fear she feels.

She wants to get back to familiar climes. But her thoughts are going in circles, and she needs endlessly long to dare look at him again. He watches the city just as she did, something too pensive about his expression, and she nudges him lightly.

“Disappointed you didn’t get it right?”

“A bit.” At that, he turns to her. “Got Schrödinger’s cat right before me, huh?”

“I’m not that complicated.”

He hums, bending his leg and resting his cheek on his knee as he keeps looking at her. “Your favorite subject was arts.”

She gives a laugh. It doesn’t sound nervous at all. “What, are you trying to create a personality profile of me?”

“Nope. Just being a curious cat.”

“What did we say about cats and curiosity?”

“I’d gladly give one of my nine lives for you.”

She doesn’t blush. She really doesn’t. “That’s not romantic at all.”

“Not romantic?” he repeats, lifting his head again.

“Yep. And not funny either.”

He squints. “Almost seems like you’re pussyfooting around right now.”

She sighs heavily. “Well, okay, yes. My favorite subject was arts, but that’s not hard to guess. Happy?”

His cat ears perk up. “Very. And your favorite artist is Ariana Grande.”

“Why her?”

“Why not?”

With a huff, Marinette averts her gaze. “I’ll admit, she’s one of my favorites.”

His grin grows. “And your favorite TV show –”

“Is this an interview? I’m going to stop responding. Just for your info.”

“Aw. Being a scaredy-cat?”

“No, valuing my privacy!”

He blinks at her innocently. “Aren’t friends supposed to know that stuff about each other?”

“You’re my friend, but you’re still a superhero, right? I can’t know too much about you. And you know that as well. It would be a one-way street, and how much worth is that?”

Her tone was sharp and final. Something Ladybug would say. She hopes to god Chat doesn’t think so too. Seconds pass, and eventually, he sighs and lets his cheek sink against his knee once again.

“True that. Think we could be friends outside my mask too?”

He sounds defeated. Sad. She swallows down the lump in her throat. “I’m sure we could.”

A little smile appears on his lips. She wishes she could do more than that.

“As long as you’re just a bit less annoying, that is,” she quips weakly.

“Hurting me once again like that. Marinette, I’m beyond shocked!”

At least his tone got more lighthearted. She shows him a smile. “No, really. I’m sure we could be friends. Absolutely sure.”

This time, the expression of relief on his face seems entirely genuine.

“It’s done,” Alya announces. “I’m done.”

“We’re done,” Nino agrees.

Four persons slump down on the couch. There it is, Alya and Marinette’s apartment, mostly furnished. All that’s left is decoration, but that will be the easy part. Right now, it’s late evening. Marinette stifles a yawn, but can’t anymore when Luka yawns next to her.

“Great,” she mumbles. “You infected all of us.”

“With?” Luka asks.

“With the yawning disease,” Alya responds in her stead between two yawns. “Awesome. We’ll never get rid of this. Forever contaminated.”

“Sorry.”

“You could sound a tad more genuine, but okay.”

“Hey, guys,” someone calls from the entrance door. “Food delivery.”

“My man,” Nino sniffs as he jumps to his feet. “Thanks, bro! We’re falling asleep right there, if you wanna join.”

“Let’s eat first, shall we? I’m really hungry” Adrien seems to be in high spirits as he puts three bags of takeout food on the counter. “Can I be the DJ? Just this once? Please, Nino?”

“I feel offended,” Nino responds. “But yeah, of course.”

Smiling brightly, Adrien connects his phone to the speakers. Marinette watches him intently. Something about this seems odd. Especially when Adrien seems to choose a song without hesitation, and the first few notes hit her like an icy wave.

“Oh, wow,” Alya calls. “Didn’t know you were an Ariana Grande fan, sunshine!”

Adrien shrugs. “Just felt like it.”

“Loving her newest album. Marinette does, too.” Alya jabs her in the side. “Right, hun?”

But Marinette is still in a catacombic state, trying her hardest not to think about it. Only a coincidence. Only a stupid coincidence. She quickly looks away from Adrien to hide the panic in her eyes, and instead she chokes out an answer. “Yeah. Yep. Great album. Like it a lot.”

But it doesn’t matter. It really doesn’t matter. She ignores Luka’s questioning looks, instead unpacking the sushi Nino brought to the table. Her stomach is already growling, and she packs a whole ton of wasabi on the piece of salmon before putting it in her mouth in one swift motion. At least the heavenly taste of rice and fish can get her out of her head, and she chews slowly, savoring the taste as long as she can.

“Oh, I also bought some desserts.” Grinning across from her, Adrien unpacks a whole truckload of macarons. And a croissant. One single plain croissant. Still grinning, he turns to her. “And because I know croissants are your favorites, I took their last one. Sorry I couldn’t get more than that, though.”

“Yeah,” Alya chimes in. “Nice try, sweetie, but her favorites are macarons anyway.”

“Oh, what?” Not once has Adrien looked away from her, and she is unable to name the shimmer in his eyes. “Huh. Guessed incorrectly this time, I suppose.”

Automatically, Marinette keeps chewing, and swallows, and chokes on her load of wasabi.

Coughing, she feels Luka pat her back. “You need a glass of water?”

Her eyes are burning with tears. “Please,” she croaks.

“Ah, yes, the curse of wasabi. So tempting, yet so dangerous.” Nino nods raptly next to her.

Still coughing, she chugs down the water Alya handed her. Doing her best to avoid Adrien’s eyes. Trying her best to push the thoughts aside. Anyone could have guessed incorrectly. Anyone. Even Nino, even Luka. Maybe not Alya, because she knows Marinette like the back of her hand, but anyone else. Especially Adrien. It doesn’t mean anything.

It _can’t_ mean anything.

Because giving her clues just like that? Chat Noir would know how risky that is. He wouldn’t do it. He wouldn’t risk an uninvolved third party knowing about his identity.

Unless he knows that this third party isn’t as uninvolved as she likes to pretend.

But that impossible too, and when she finally stops coughing and resumes eating her sushi, she concentrates on the food instead of anything else. Even though it’s starting to taste stale. Even though her heart keeps racing and her stomach suddenly feels funny. Even though she thinks she can feel Adrien’s eyes on her the entire time.

“We could celebrate this extraordinary day,” Alya suggests in the middle of their meal. “By watching a movie, for example. You in? I’ve still got a lot of wine and a lot of beer we’ll need to use up.”

Nino claps his hands once. “Perfect. _Child’s Play_. Didn’t see that one in years!”

“ _Final Destination_. The second one,” Luka suggests.

“Luka! So many great horror films to pick, and you want to see _Final Destination_? I’m perplexed.” Alya shakes her head at him. “ _Friday the 13th_. Trust me.”

“Does it … Does it have to be a horror movie?” Marinette bashfully chimes in.

“Oh. Sorry.” With a soft smile, Luka turns to her. “No horror movie then.”

“You don’t like horror movies?” Adrien asks across from her.

There’s no disbelief in his expression. Only a glimmer of carefulness, and she suddenly feels put on the spot. But it’s just another coincidence, she reminds herself. She’s overthinking this. Entirely overthinking this.

“Not exactly,” she therefore mumbles. “Can’t stomach them.”

He keeps looking at her. Something about his usually kind and friendly expression seems different, but she can’t quite put her finger on it. “Then that makes two of us. I’m a bit of a scaredy-cat, if I’m being honest.”

She freezes. Stares.

Their eye contact ends, and scratching the back of his head, Adrien shows the others a sheepish smile. “Sorry, guys. But, uh …”

“Hey, no worries, you two. Something else will be all right.”

“ _High School Musical_ ,” Alya breathes. “I wanna compare Sharpay to Chloé and write down every fitting line. Then I’ll spam her with them until she blocks me again. Like she did two months ago. I mean, it’s perfect!”

“Who’s Gabriella, then?” Luka asks.

“Oh my god. Easy. Marinette here!” With a wide gesture, Alya points at Marinette. In return, she sinks into the cushions, her heart still racing.

“Oh, awesome,” Nino says. “And our bro here could be Troy!”

“If I were more sporty, sure,” Adrien laughs.

Sure, he says. As if it is no big deal at all. And while she keeps blushing, their eyes meet again. She doesn’t like this. Not at all. Because her brain is whispering a truth to her she can’t face, suggestions she doesn’t want to think about, and she wishes she could just run away and never waste another thought on it.

“And who’s Ryan?” Adrien goes on. “Luka?”

“Sure thing,” responds Luka. “At least I love music, huh?”

“Oh, perfect.” Laughing, Alya gets up to retrieve her laptop. “So, _High School Musical_ it is. Great choice, people.”

Great choice indeed.

“It’s only a coincidence.”

“Sure.” Tikki nods a few times. “Uh, sorry, what exactly are we talking about?”

“It’s only a coincidence that I lied to Chat about my favorite pastry just a day prior, right?”

“Sure. Um, what are you getting at again?”

“And it’s only a coincidence that Adrien brought me a croissant, even though he bought macarons for everyone else, right?”

“Oh, macarons.” Tikki’s eyes shimmer. “I mean, sure, coincidence.”

“Because any other explanation wouldn’t make sense, right?”

“Right!”

Marinette sharply turns her head to her kwami. “Are you sure?”

Tikki flinches back a bit. “Sure about what?”

“That it was only a coincidence.”

“I – as the kwami of creation, which always requires good luck, I can only say – I cannot tell you the chances of any event on this planet, that would go far beyond my powers, so – but humans have developed a lot of ways to mathematically determine the chances of certain events happening, so maybe you can use those?”

Marinette stares. “Did you just tell me to calculate the chances of this being a coincidence?”

“It’s a possible course of action!”

Marinette keeps staring. But then, Tikki disappears in a matter of seconds. At first, she thinks Tikki just took the easy way out. It takes seconds until she hears a little thump, and in return, her heart jumps up to her throat. She isn’t quite ready to face Chat. First, she would have to convince herself that her assumptions are ridiculous. But they are anyway, so there’s no use in pretending otherwise.

So she turns to face Chat Noir. “Hi there, kitty.”

“Evening, princess.” As always, his face is drenched in shadows. From his position, she can only faintly imagine his silhouette. She keeps trying to swallow down the lump in her throat. “I bring good news.”

“Good news? Pray tell.”

He stays in the shadows. This way, there is no chance for her to determine the emotions in his eyes. This way, only his ever so lighthearted tone offers a hint of his intentions. It makes her fingers twitch, and her breathing quicken, but she wills herself to stay calm.

“There’s only one girl left.”

Marinette keeps staring at darkness, doing her best not to let her face slip. It’s good news, really. Because no matter what happened with Adrien, no matter all the coincidences – it means that it can’t be her. That he won’t choose her. That he lost that little stupid game they were playing, and that everything will go back to normal.

It’s what she wanted from the beginning. It’s what she still wants.

“And who’s that?” it escapes her before she can hold herself back. She wants to correct herself, but Chat is quicker.

“Would love to tell you, princess. But that girl would take all my nine lives if I did, right?”

“I guess,” she replies. “Not as if I know her, it seems.”

A few unmoving seconds. Then, finally, Chat jumps down from the railing, entering dim lights. Moonlight weaves through blonde hair, and green eyes hold her in, and while she keeps sitting on her chair, hands clenched to tight fists, he leans his back against the railing. When he doesn’t say anything, her nervous mouth takes over, forming words she can’t properly examine before they’re out.

“So, what are you planning on doing? Tell her?”

“Yeah,” he replies. “I’ll talk to her tomorrow evening.”

“So soon,” she whispers. “Nervous?”

“Like a one-eyed cat watching two mouse holes.” There’s no smile on his lips, and his brows are furrowed. “I could be wrong.”

“Without my help towards the end, that’s a very real _paw_ sibility.”

Despite everything, that little pun makes a grin form on his lips. A tiny bit of relief stumbles through her heart. “Before that, I have some plans. Just to make sure I’m not wasting my guess.”

“Really?” Again, nervousness clouds her mind. “What do your plans involve?”

At that, he taps his forefinger against his lips. “Secret plans, Marinette. Sorry.”

But knowing those plans would be so much easier for her to handle. So she narrows her eyes. “Not like I could tell her anyway.”

“If I’d tell you, it wouldn’t be a secret anymore, though.”

“Oh, come on. You can’t leave me hanging like that!”

“Leave you hanging, huh?” His cat ears twitch. “I’m just making sure that girl is neither about to bite your nor my head off, that’s all.”

“She can’t be that bad,” mutters Marinette.

“If you only knew.” Chat grins, approaching her until he can sit down next to her, leaning against her chair’s armrest. “I just hope I didn’t hurt any of those girls.”

“Do you want me to be honest?”

He sighs. “Not really.”

“Okay. None of them liked you anyway, so there’s nothing to be hurt about.”

Snorting, Chat looks up to her. “That’s reassuring.”

“I know, I know.” The thought of it being over tomorrow shakes something inside her. The thought of having to tell him that no, after all the work he put into this, he still didn’t guess correctly. She’ll have to face his disappointment, and she reminds herself that it will be necessary. That she has no choice.

Before she can think about it, her hand reaches for his face, and she allows herself to lightly trace a path over his cheek. She wants to apologize, but she wouldn’t even be allowed to tell him what for, and instead she settles for a weak smile.

“You have a good heart, Chat Noir.”

He laughs lightly, closing his eyes as her fingers rest on his warm skin. “That comes out of nowhere.”

“I think you tend to forget that much often enough.”

“You too.” He turns his head to face her. “You have a really good heart, Marinette.”

She retracts her hand. He couldn’t be more wrong. Someone with a good heart wouldn’t lie to him that blatantly.

“Didn’t think you can be that cheesy,” she mumbles to distract herself from her own thoughts, and she lightly pokes his head.

“You started it!” He sighs. “Also, please don’t mention cheese.”

“What? Why?”

“I hate cheese.”

She gasps. “How can someone hate cheese?”

“By having to smell it every day, maybe?” His grumbling is kind of cute, and she can’t help but grin.

“What, are you living next to a cheese farm?”

“No, I’m not. It’s far worse.”

“Worse?”

He makes a zipping motion. “Still a superhero, princess. Can’t risk you finding out too much, can I?”

“You literally let me read your very private Tinder conversations.”

“They weren’t very private! Only a little.”

“So I should feel honored?”

“I’m a careful kitty, so maybe you should be.”

Or maybe she should be just as careful.

**Chat Noir:** really random favor to ask, but could you meet me at the grand bassin rond? 🐱  
**Marinette:** um?  
**Marinette:** what? why?  
**Chat Noir:** today at 2 pm  
**Marinette:** no, not when – why??  
**Chat Noir:** please? it’s important?  
**Chat Noir:** purrrrretty please?  
**Marinette:** you know it’s the middle of the day and that there are a ton of people at the grand bassin rond and that it’s all in all a very bad idea to be out and about in broad daylight when there’s no akuma attack nearby??  
**Marinette:** at least that’s what i  
**Marinette:** that’s what i think  
**Chat Noir:** no no worries it’s fine! just please be there?  
**Chat Noir:** say you’ll be there?  
**Chat Noir:** don’t make this kitty sad? 😿  
**Marinette:** chat  
**Chat Noir:** 😿😿😿  
**Marinette:** chat are you sure  
**Chat Noir:** 😿😿😿😿😿😿😿😿😿  
**Marinette:** oh my god okay i’ll be there i’ll be there!  
**Marinette:** even though i have no idea what you are thinking but okay i’ll be there!  
**Chat Noir:** see ya princess 😘  


Marinette feels ridiculous. She really does. The plaza around the Grand Bassin Rond is as filled as it always is, and she starts kicking away pebbles, shivering in the cold autumn air. It’s half past two already. She can’t imagine Chat would stand her up, but then again, she has no idea what would be important enough to meet her in broad daylight instead of waiting for the evening. Sighing, she leans her head back.

“Marinette.”

Usually, Chat Noir would never use such a soft tone with her. But when she turns around to the familiar voice, it’s not Chat’s face that greets her, but Adrien’s. For a moment, she can only stand and stare like an idiot, and the uncertain smile on Adrien’s face doesn’t make it any easier.

Don’t think about it, she warns herself. Don’t.

“Adrien,” she breathes. “What a coincidence! What are you shoeing here? Booing? Doing – what are you doing?”

He seems to search for something on her face. She resists the urge to shy away. “Um, I guess I was just in the area. And saw you here. On your own.”

“Yeah,” she mumbles, taking a quick glance around. “Guess he’s standing me up.”

“Oh? A date?”

Her eyes snap back. The teasing undertone is not something she’s used to, and she furrows her brows. “I – no. Me, dating? Ha! I mean, no. No date.”

“No date, then. Can I abduct you instead?”

“Abduct?” she repeats slowly.

“That – just – that was a joke. Meaning, uh, would you like to …?” His smile wavers, and he points over his shoulder, apparently at the Seine flowing not far away from them.

“Oh. You mean, take a walk?”

“Get a coffee, maybe?”

“Like – like a date?” She laughs too loudly and nudges his side. Regrets her words in a matter of seconds. Because, what the hell? Just that tiny sentence alone is making her so nervous she needs half an eternity to stop laughing.

Instead of laughing in just the same manner, Adrien grins, stepping up right next to her. “Only if I’m allowed to put an arm around your shoulder. Else it can’t be a real date.”

She instantly burns up. Her heart is racing so loudly she can hardly hear her own words. “Yeah! So true! Shoulders! Shoulders totally belong to a date.”

“I wholeheartedly agree.”

She smirks at him and gives a thumbs up, internally smacking her forehead as they start walking.

Weird coincidences have just become part of her life, it seems. So it’s not strange at all to have had Adrien appear right that instant in the same place she is at. It’s a small world, or something. As they keep walking, people pass them by, and the silence between them is both peaceful and exhilarating. Marinette reminds herself to breathe properly. From time to time, their arms brush, and even through the layers of their coats, she can feel goosebumps rise on her skin at every tiny contact.

Adrien stops her at one of the countless coffee stands, grabbing her arm gently. “Let me guess. Cappuccino, one spoon of sugar?”

Her eyes widen. “What – can you read my mind?”

He chuckles. For whatever reason, he seems really satisfied with himself. “A dash of luck, and a dash of remembering unnecessary details,” he tells her.

Even though she never told him details like those, did she? At least not Adrien.

With fresh coffee between her cold fingers, they keep strolling over the plaza, speaking about trivial things. Like the oncoming house-warming party, and the start of university in just two weeks, and how Adrien hopes to move out from his father’s until next semester at the latest, and how he can’t wait to see Marinette’s designs as she’ll keep working on them throughout her studies. She can’t stop blushing. It’s not the first time they have such a long conversation, and also not the first time they are completely on their own. But it never felt quite like this. There never was that tiny fluttering feeling in her chest whenever she looked at him, and there was never a shimmer of something incredibly soft in his eyes whenever he glanced at her.

It’s scary. Thrilling, exciting, and unbelievably scary.

They arrive at the Seine, turning left as they follow the steady stream. Despite the cold breezes, it’s a sunny day, and people constantly pass them by. They keep talking, and talking, and their cups are empty – he had a cappuccino too, she discovers – and they come to a halt next to one of the bridges, the same place they usually hung out at with their friends after school.

“Can’t believe we will never again just sit here and complain about homework,” she whispers, memories conjuring a smile on her face. “We’re getting old.”

“We could complain about other stuff, you know.”

She turns his head to him, her smile getting broader. “Other stuff, huh? For example?”

“Like, how I can already see the first few wrinkles on your face.” His words are followed by a good-hearted grin, and with a gasp, she reaches for her forehead.

“No! This can’t be! Is this the price we have to pay for becoming adults?”

“Maybe it is.” He lifts his hand, and before she can even react, his thumb carefully traces a line over her forehead, his smile softening. “There. And all gone again.”

Her heart is exploding as his hand drops down again. Her cheeks are turning warm. “Not a wrinkle at all, then?“ she manages, voice feeble.

“Only worry lines. And you really don’t need those.”

She’s inclined to agree. The touch leaves a burning sensation on her skin, and she can’t help but look away quickly, instead watching the river before her. All words have left her mind. Next to her, she hears him shift a bit, and she almost flinches when he speaks up again.

“So, um.” His tone changes to a sheepish, careful one. For whatever reason, her body tenses in response, waiting for his words. “There’s something I have to tell you.”

Her thoughts come to a sudden standstill. The moment seems surreal. She can’t let herself think further. “Okay.”

He clears his throat. Nods for her to get closer to the water. She does. Side by side, they stare at the Seine, watching it move and gurgle and do its own little thing. Her hands are trembling. Her heart is too.

“Woah.” A tiny laugh from him. “I’m nervous. I didn’t think I’d be that nervous.”

She is too. So she tries to grin. “What, are you going to confess to me?”

Silence.

No. No, no. This can’t be happening. This can’t be happening, for god’s sake.

“I – actually, I – where do I start …”

“At the beginning,” she whispers.

“At the beginning,” he repeats. She still isn’t looking at him. She doesn’t know what she would have done had she seen his expression. It’s safer this way. So, frozen to the spot, she keeps staring at flowing water. “At the beginning, there was this girl. And she was bold, and clever, and way too good for me.”

She wants to shake her head, but she doesn’t.

“I tried to make her see for five years what I knew all along. That we’re meant for each other.”

She wants to laugh, but she doesn’t.

“I told her. I told her – no matter who she really is, I’d adore her just the same. I meant it, I really did. But somewhere along the way … I started to hope that this one other girl, this kind and beautiful and wonderful girl, would be the same one I fell so hard for. Maybe it was stupid of me. Maybe I shouldn’t have started to hope in the first place. I tried to deny it, but the truth is, I never stopped hoping. And in the end …”

She wants to cry, but she doesn’t.

“I think I was right. Both of those amazing girls – they are one and the same. I’m so sure they are. It was her. All along, it was her.”

She can’t say anything. Any word she thinks of evaporates into senselessness.

“But I hurt her. I hurt her a lot, because I was being an idiot. I don’t deserve her. I know I don’t deserve her. Still, I … I thought hard about it, I thought about not telling her, I thought about leaving her be, giving her the chance to find someone better, but …” She hears him exhale shakily. “But here I am, falling for her all over again.”

It can’t be. It just – it can’t be.

“So, could you give me one last piece of advice, Marinette?” She hears him turn to her, and she can’t bring herself to do the same. “What do I tell her to make her understand?”

Her heart is pounding hard. Her body feels heavy. Tears sting in her eyes, but she can’t allow herself to do it. She can’t cry in front of him. She can’t. Instead, she swallows down any emotion she feels, being left with consuming nothingness.

Slowly, she turns to him. The slight desperation in his eyes hurts too much. And it’s still too unreal. Those can’t be the same green eyes having looked at her night after night. That can’t be the same blonde hair, usually drenched in moonlight. It can’t be.

It just can’t.

“Sorry, I don’t understand either,” she says. “Do I know her? I – I couldn’t quite follow you.”

She only chooses when to lie badly, and sometimes, she chooses to lie as well as she can.

Bit by bit, the almost hopeful expression crumbles from Adrien’s face. She feels horrible as she watches. She feels horrible, and despicable, but the alternative would be so much scarier. The truth floats over her head like the sword of Damocles, and just one wrong move could hurt both of them too badly to ever recover, and it would be her fault. It would be.

“Oh god,” he mutters, realization dawning on his face. “You have no idea what I’m talking about.”

“I’m – I’m sorry, should I?” Her voice shakes so much she wonders how she didn’t burst into tears already.

“No. No, no, that’s …” He looks away from her. Rakes a shaky hand through his hair. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have – it was just – forget it, okay? I’m just tired, is all.”

“That’s okay.”

It has to be okay. It has to be okay, she repeats in her head. Her nails dig into her palms until it’s too painful, but her sight is blurry anyway, and she keeps breathing. On and on. Until it gets better, even though it doesn’t.

“Even the coffee couldn’t help, huh?” she quips weakly.

“No. No, it couldn’t.”

Their silence is heavy and tucks at her heart. But she doesn’t allow herself to cry.

**Marinette:** you didn’t even turn up?  
**Marinette:** chat?  
**Marinette:** i promise i’m not mad, okay? really, i’m not  
**Marinette:** chat, you’re worrying me. at least respond. or i’ll think something happened to you  
**Marinette:** kitty? please?  
**Chat Noir:** i’m so sorry i couldn’t make it …  
**Chat Noir:** please don’t worry, everything is okay  
**Marinette:** purromise you’re okay?  
**Chat Noir:** 😸 yup! furry much so!  


Chat Noir is the worst liar she ever met, she thinks, and she wipes the last tears from her eyes, uttering those two tiny words that can make her a whole different person, and just herself all the same.


	7. Chapter 7

Chat Noir is already sitting at the edge of the roof, shoulders slumped and breaths slow. She knows he must have heard her light steps already, so she doesn’t bother greeting him as she sits down next to him. Just far enough away to keep some distance between them, but close enough to let him know she is here. That she is here for him, no matter what happens.

“Guess you won,” he says.

The words hit her with enough force to push all air out of her lungs. “What are you talking about, kitty?”

He doesn’t look at her as he opens his baton’s screen and shows it to her. Tinder is opened. The page showing his matches only offers one single conversation though, a stark contrast to how it looked like mere three weeks ago, and her breath almost gets stuck in her throat as she reads the name out loud.

“Marinette.”

But it doesn’t make sense. Because she was the one person he should have been sure isn’t Ladybug. Then again, she was on the list all along. One of his top ten, even. One of his top three. The last one left, at the end.

The whole time. Right before his eyes.

“Yeah.” He sighs, staring at the horizon. “And I was really sure, too.”

“That I’m Marinette?”

“Yes.”

She feels her rapid pulse in her throat, and a heavy feeling in her chest. “So how do you know it isn’t her?”

“I asked her.”

That much she knows. But still, she is Ladybug, and she doesn’t know the same things Marinette knows, and she therefore raises her eyebrows. “You asked her if she is Ladybug?”

“No worries. I didn’t give us away.”

Of course he’d think that this is her top priority. “You could have just asked me.”

“I …” He gives another drawn-out sigh and buries his face in his hands. The sight hurts so much that Ladybug has to look away. “I think I just got so excited, I was … There were a lot of hints. Seems like I only saw what I wanted to see.” A little laugh. “Of course you’d never give me any kind of hint you don’t want me to know. You’re far too smart for that.”

She doesn’t know what to make of that. “You know this was never about winning or not, right? I didn’t win. You didn’t lose.”

“What was it about then?”

She doesn’t know. Or maybe she does, and maybe it’s too hard to admit that somehow, yes, he won. Even if she can’t let him know that he did. And somehow, yes, she lost, and she lost everything.

“About showing you,” she mutters, “that sometimes, it’s better to leave the cat in the bag.”

He snorts. It’s a cold sound. She can understand why.

“So that’s it, huh? No pestering anymore. Ever,” his quiet voice reaches her.

“Those were the rules.”

“I know.” Finally he looks up, and his eyes shimmer with sadness that makes everything inside her shiver violently. “Can I just ask you for one thing?”

“Depends.”

The response makes the corners of his mouth twitch, but he doesn’t smile. “Let me visit her just one last time before deleting my account. All right? I owe it to her.”

“You can visit her anytime you want, silly. With or without the account.”

“I know.” He sighs. “Still. Please?”

She searches his face. For what exactly, she doesn’t even know herself. “Don’t tell me you are getting dotty about Marinette?”

Chat laughs quietly. “She is surprisingly similar to you. Just as dependable, and just as strong.”

Her heart flutters. Her head is a mess. This is Adrien speaking about her, she reminds herself. This is Adrien’s voice, carrying a shimmer of adoration as he talks about Marinette. It feels somehow surreal, and she holds herself back from shaking her head.

She doesn’t know what to do with it. She doesn’t know what to do with any of it. She doesn’t know what to think, what to feel.

This is Adrien. But it’s still Chat, too. And she can’t forget about this one simple fact.

“Just make sure not to get yourself hurt.”

“I’m used to that, at least.”

It breaks her heart. She wants to reach out for him, but her hand won’t do what she tells it to do. She can only keep staring at him, and eventually, he stares back.

“Hope your experience is going a bit better, my lady.”

“No,” she sighs. “Not at all.”

“So what the kids are saying is true? Tinder is a horrible place?”

“I’d have to agree, you old tomcat.”

But he’ll get over her. He will. She is certain. She has to be certain. There is no choice but to be certain.

Once again, she feels like crying.

“You knew.”

“Huh?”

“All those five years. The whole time. You knew Adrien is Chat Noir.”

The truth seems to hit Tikki like a brick, and the kwami flops down onto the armrest of her chair. “Marinette – not the whole time – yes, I knew, but what should I have said? At the beginning, it was important to keep your identities a secret. You were only kids. It was too dangerous.”

“You could have … I don’t know, given me clues, anything!”

“I couldn’t. You know that I couldn’t.”

She does. “It’s just … The thought that I was in love …” She gulps twice. “That I was in love with Chat Noir. The whole time, I was in love with him – that’s just – I can’t believe it.”

“Well, I mean, yes? Technically, you kind of were in love with Chat Noir.”

She groans. “And now what?”

“I don’t know.” Tikki blinks. “Are you still in love with him?”

“What – that’s the worst question you could have asked right now!”

“It’s the only important question, right?”

Marinette was sure that she isn’t in love with Adrien anymore. Or at least that she was close to letting go of him. She was so, so close. But just the thought of it – thinking about how much fun she had with Chat, and that it’s just another part of Adrien, that he _is_ Adrien – it’s too much to comprehend. It’s just too much.

“I don’t know,” she groans, pulling the blanket tighter around her body. Another chilly night, and her body keeps trembling in the coldness. “It’s too complicated, right? I can’t just – I can’t just come out with the truth after lying to him that many times, that would be … He’d …” She runs out of words, and instead of her, Tikki finishes the sentence.

“He’d never forgive you?”

Marinette flinches, unable to answer.

“There is a good reason you lied, right?” Tikki’s smile is soft and small. “Just like you told Chat Noir. Sometimes white lies are necessary.”

“Even if that means deceiving your most trusted partner?”

“Even then. What’s important is to acknowledge what you did, and …”

“Apologize,” she mumbles.

“Well, yes. In most cases, it does tend to help.”

She doesn’t ask what would happen if he didn’t accept any apology at all. Because she knows it would break her. And it’s the last thing she can afford right now. Tikki seems to want to add something, but before she can do so, she is already floating away hastily.

Marinette feels herself shiver. It’s already night, and she thinks she will never be ready. She’ll never be ready for that familiar thump, and for that familiar voice.

“Good evening, princess.”

“Hey there.” Her voice is trembling, but she still tries to smile at him. “Left me standing a few days ago, huh?”

He steps out of the shadows with quick movements, and she doesn’t even notice the object in his hand until he holds it out for her. A pink rose. Her cheeks turn hot, and her eyes water, and she lifts her chin to look at him.

“Chat …”

“I a _paw_ logize with all my heart.” He cracks a smile which he drops way too quickly again. “I’m really sorry, Marinette. I got held up.”

Gingerly, she takes the rose. She laughs to hide the sadness in her voice. “So much for not being cheesy.”

He makes a disgusted sound. “Punishing me with my weakest point. How merciless.”

“You really didn’t have to bring me an apology present. But thank you anyway.” As he sits down next to her, her hand automatically reaches for his head, ruffling his hair. It’s somehow bizarre to know Adrien is letting her touch him that casually, and it’s so much more bizarre to realize she is even able to touch him that casually, and she quickly retracts her hand again. “So, how did it go?”

He looks at her. She recognizes that shimmer of sadness in his eyes too well. “I told her my guess.”

“And?”

“I didn’t guess correctly. It’s over.”

“Oh.” He said it so matter-of-factly that it feels like a stone drops down to her stomach. “I’m sorry, Chat.”

“Like you said. Didn’t have a chance on my own anyway.”

She can’t even disagree. She is the one who made sure he has no chance, after all. “Still, it’s … I’m sorry.”

He sends her a tiny grin. “I thought it was you. That’s what my guess was – you.”

Why does he have to tell her? Why does he have to make it even harder? “Me,” she repeats, voice almost shaking.

“Yeah. After eliminating everyone else … You were the only one left.”

“I … But you knew it wasn’t me. I told you.”

“You did. You could have been trying to deceive me though, right? Would have been something our girl is capable of.” He taps against his temple. “Because it would have been smart.”

She wants to smile, but she can’t. So she just keeps looking at him.

“I’d have been glad if it was you.” His smile turns softer. “You’re pretty amazing, after all.”

“You’re amazing too.” Her voice is shaking too hard, and she looks away. “Sometimes, that is.”

“Sometimes? Marinette, that just isn’t the truth.”

“It sure is. You can get on one’s nerves. Sometimes, you know.”

“But never on yours.”

“Oh, you did get on my nerves often enough.”

“Mew-ouch! Nah, you don’t mean it.”

“How can you tell?”

It was meant as a joke, but the way he looks at her burns her up inside. “I can read any lie from your eyes.”

Not quite the truth, is it?

“So,” she whispers, wanting to look away to hide any lie from him anyway, but not doing so in the end, “what are you going to do?”

Chat shrugs. “Nothing, I guess.”

“Are you going to give up on her?”

“Well. I have no choice.”

Doesn’t he? Does she want him to give up? She doesn’t know. Adrien, having loved her for that long. Adrien – and she wonders yet again. She wonders how much of her he really sees. If what Adrien said is true. If he is falling for Marinette just the same, and somehow she can’t believe it. She just can’t.

“I’m sorry,” she repeats, voice weak.

“Nothing to be sorry for.” He looks away from her, glancing up at the sky. “At least it gives me some certainty.”

She shouldn’t do it. She really shouldn’t. But seeing him hurting like that hurts her too, and she reaches for his shoulder. “Do you want to see a movie? To get your mind off things.”

His eyes find hers again. “Not horror, I’d guess?”

“Good guess. I wouldn’t want to subject this little scaredy-kitty to horror movies. We can watch, I don’t know, _Mean Girls_.”

“Sure thing.” His face lights up. “I never watched it, but I heard it’s good.”

“You never watched _Mean Girls_?” She gasps. “Chat, that’s horrible!”

He grins at her. “Thanks for teaching this stray kitty something new, then.”

It only dawns on her when they are inside her room, having moved her chaise longue in front of the computer screen, and while she is searching for the right stream, she hears his voice behind her, tickling down her spine and confirming her fears.

“So, how did you know I don’t like horror movies?”

Right. Adrien doesn’t like horror movies. Chat Noir, on the other hand? She wouldn’t know as much. This is going to get complicated. Still looking at her computer screen, the rose lying right next to it, she forces her voice to sound steady and unwavering. “Lucky guess. You give away that vibe, you know.”

“What kind of vibe?”

“The ‘oh my god, is that blood? Catch me, I’m fainting’ vibe.”

He snorts, but doesn’t press her further.

She’s sweating, and trembling, and her heart is bursting, but still. She can’t let anything show. So she ignores how his eyes bore directly through her, and she puts in the movie instead.

At least their conversations return back to normal. Chat seems to enjoy the movie, snickering and commenting on it every now and then, and she can’t help but tuck that away under “things she hadn’t thought Adrien would like”. Even though she shouldn’t. Even though she should keep the line between Adrien and Chat Noir as clear as possible.

And halfway through the movie, she notices that Chat has fallen asleep.

His head is leaned against the chaise’s backrest, his breathing even. This is Adrien, she has to remind herself. Adrien, with blonde hair falling into his face and his eyes closed. Adrien. She observes him for so long that it embarrasses even herself, and the movie plays on in the background. When it ends, Chat Noir is still asleep.

She doesn’t know what to do. She has to wake him up, sure. She has to send him home. But touching him, knowing who he really is, carries a whole new layer of meaning. Her hand is trembling when she reaches for his shoulder, and she shakes him softly.

“You fell asleep again, sleepy kitty. Didn’t like the movie?”

He mumbles something unintelligible.

“Come on. You can’t be here all night.”

“Why not?” he mumbles drowsily.

“Because I’m sure you have a life to return to that doesn’t involve me.”

“Then maybe, I prefer this life right here.”

Her heart drops. Her breathing hitches. It wouldn’t take much to bridge the distance and do what she wanted to do for such a long time. But she doesn’t. Instead, her hand slides from his shoulder again. “Kitty. Stop being half-asleep, or you’ll never get home.”

He finally opens his eyes. Looks at her for a second. Just as quickly, he averts his gaze, stretching as he sits up. “Can I be honest with you?”

She keeps her breathing even. “Depends.”

A smile on his lips. Familiar and just a tad sad. “I really, really hoped it’d be you.”

“I’m sorry,” she whispers, repeating the only thing she can tell him without breaking apart. She really means it.

“Nothing you can do.”

No response comes to mind.

When he leaps out into the night, she looks after him. Tikki appears next to her. They exchange a look.

“I think,” Marinette whispers, “your question was a good one. A really good one.”

Tikki’s smile is warm and understanding.

So she sets out to find the answer.

“Okay, Luka,” she says, her phone sitting on her desk as she keeps folding clothes and putting them in her new wardrobe. “If you laugh, I’m going to hate you forever, and I mean it.”

“No laughing. I promise.”

“You can’t even chuckle.”

“Is giggling allowed?”

“Yes, but only because I’d really like to hear you, Luka Couffaine, giggling like a schoolgirl.”

“Perfect. Go on.”

She rolls her eyes with a smile, sending her screen a quick look. “So. Theoretically. Imagine there’s a boy.”

“Imagined.”

“And then, imagine you’d need to, kinda, find out, uh, if he, well, if you – you know, you –”

Okay, harder than she thought. Luckily for her, Luka beats her to it, stopping her in her motions as he utters his next words. “Wear that skirt.”

“Huh?” She looks at the piece of clothing in her hands. A pink, really cute skirt. “What?”

Luka’s smile is as patient as always. “Then text him. You need help with – anything, really. Sorting your clothes. Changing your sheets. Hell, putting the milk into the fridge. Anything will work. The quicker he is at yours, the more smitten he is.”

She almost drops the skirt. “How did you …”

“I know you well enough, Marinette.”

“I never …” Her face is so hot it’s getting uncomfortable. “You don’t know who this is about, right?”

Luka grins. “No.”

“Are you lying?”

“No.”

“Oh my god, you’re lying.”

“Maybe.”

“Oh, wow,” she mumbles, hiding her face behind the next T-shirt she pulls out. “And I thought I was getting over him.”

“Guess some things never change.”

She groans. “Please tell me I’m not being stupid.”

“You aren’t, Marinette. I mean it.”

Well, at least that helps.

So she heeds Luka’s advice. Or at least tries to. Sitting on the kitchen counter, she stares at her phone. “Sorry, I need someone to help me put the milk into the fridge” does sound pretty dumb though, even despite Luka’s advice, and Tikki’s glances don’t help.

“Maybe you could ask him for food?” Tikki suggests.

“Hey, Adrien, I need food, bring me food? What, maybe add next week’s grocery list while I’m at it, thank you very much?”

“Ah. You’re subtly telling me that this is a request you can’t make without being impolite.”

“Tikki, you’re sweet, but really not helpful.”

She thinks so hard her brain is nearly melting. She doesn’t really need help with watering her plants. She doesn’t need help with the lightbulbs. She doesn’t need help with the microwave. All in all, honestly? The only help she needs is with Adrien himself.

Until it suddenly hits her.

Tikki nods appreciatively as she types in her request, sending out three quick prayers before she sends the message. And then it’s back to being nervous again.

For thirty seconds, that is. Because Adrien texts her back right away, telling her he’ll be there in fifteen at the latest, adding he coincidentally is nearby right now.

And, wow. She knows how busy he usually is. Luka’s words still echo in the back of her head, and her face flames up yet again.

“So, what is the level of smitten-ness per second?” Tikki asks, round eyes shining with genuine curiosity. Marinette can only try to hide her burning cheeks.

“Exponentially falling.”

“Oh! That seems like a good sign, then!”

And Adrien didn’t lie. It takes him exactly sixteen minutes to ring the doorbell. Not that Marinette was counting or anything. He seems a bit breathless as he appears before her doorframe, raking his hand through his hair to push it back messily.

“Hi,” he says.

“Hi,” she returns.

Her throat suddenly feels way too tight. Green eyes locking with hers. Blonde hair framing a handsome face. Her breath gets stuck in her lungs, and before they can continue awkwardly standing in front of each other, she lets him in.

“Sorry if I held you up from something inshortened.” She clears her throat. “Important, I mean! Important.”

Damn it, this is just Chat. Only that this isn’t _just_ Chat. It’s Adrien too. Adrien, whose heart she kind of broke. She has no idea if she’d forgive herself if she was in his position.

“Nothing is more important than setting up your TV.” He hangs his cloak on the rack before giving her a smile. “How else are you supposed to watch bad movies?”

“Right! Right.”

She realizes she’s kind of an idiot when Adrien goes to work. Work that requires about half a minute of picking up the already prepared HDMI cable and plugging it into the helpfully labelled HDMI port. She is frantically searching for an excuse as she watches him turn around. Easy. She became spontaneously longsighted. Just a moment ago, the port wasn’t there, she swears. The HDMI cable wasn’t there before either. Wow, that has to be magic! A miracle, even!

She is so screwed.

What she isn’t prepared for, though, is the amused twinkle in Adrien’s eyes. “So, that wasn’t too hard.”

“Yeah! Yep.” She averts her gaze. Shifts her weight from one foot to the other. “Wow. So glad you’re here.”

“Definitely something you would have never managed on your own.”

“Nope. Absolutely not.”

“Could it be,” his voice reaches her, a playful little undertone, something that reminds her so much of Chat she shivers, “that you only wanted an excuse for me to be here?”

Marinette is glad she is standing behind the sofa, being able to watch Adrien from afar. How a little smile curls on his lips, the slightest bit of uncertainty resting in green eyes. How he is tilting his head just a bit. Just as Chat was when assessing a new detail about one of the girls, or when looking at her with an emotion she didn’t dare name.

She was the last one on his list.

He unmatched girl after girl, always having her in mind, always considering her to be a fitting choice, and she was the last one on the list.

“I’ll take your silence as a yes.”

His voice makes her jolt. “What – I mean, no – I –”

There’s something almost careful to the way Adrien keeps his distance, even if amusement still sticks to his words. “Oh, yes. Sorry. You really needed me to plug a labelled cable into its labelled destination.”

“Okay,” she manages, face still way too hot. “Maybe I wanted you to be here.”

The sudden confession seems to surprise him so much that something flashes over his face, taking his amusement with it. Her clenched hands rest on the sofa’s backrest, unmoving. And the thought really hits her. The thought that she could tell him, here and now, that he was right. That she was lying. She wouldn’t be able to tell him why exactly she did it, wouldn’t even know the answer herself by now, but at least she’d be able to erase his doubts. Once and for all.

She could do it. Ask him if he’s sure. Ask him if he really thinks it’s Marinette – Marinette of all people – if he didn’t make a mistake, if in truth, he wanted someone else to be Ladybug – if everything would change now that he knows, now that they both know, and not for the better –

But the words tangle on her tongue, are being swept away too quickly, and she settles for something else instead. “Up for a movie?”

“A movie,” he repeats.

“Because … you fixed my TV.” Helplessly, she gestures at the mentioned object. “So, movie.”

“I … Sure.” Only slowly, only cautiously, he approaches the sofa. Approaches her. She feels her body tense. It’s just Adrien. But it’s also Chat, and it’s something she just can’t forget. “What do you feel like? Not horror, I guess.”

His mouth moves into a smile as if amused by an inside joke she shouldn’t get, but still does nevertheless. Instead of flopping right onto the sofa, he comes to a stop in front of it, a barrier between them. She’s glad. She wouldn’t have known what to do had he been too close to her.

“You never finished _Mean Girls_.”

Marinette regrets the words as soon as they leave her lips. She knew this would end badly. She just knew. Before Adrien can even properly think about it, she hastily talks on.

“Nino told me. That you never watched it. Which is a crime, absolutely! Who never watched _Mean Girls_ before? It’s cultural knowledge! Which means, we have to watch it. No buts. Deal? Deal.”

She doesn’t even wait for his answer, instead stepping up to her laptop. Her back is turned on him as she searches her files for the correct link. Her hand is shaking. Behind her, she hears Adrien sit down on the sofa.

“I actually watched some of it,” he says.

She almost freezes. “Just some of it?”

“I fell asleep in the middle.”

“Oh. Wow. So, not that exciting after all?”

For a long moment, he keeps quiet. When he speaks again, his voice sounds guarded. It kind of breaks her heart. “It was a hard day. I was just tired.”

She can understand why.

There’s some polite distance between them on the sofa, her on one end, him on the other one. They start talking during the first half of the movie. It would almost be comfortable if her thoughts didn't constantly drift back to Chat Noir. Comparing their mannerisms. How they look in certain lighting. It doesn’t help her, not one bit. She tries to distract herself by telling him that Alya is still packing her last things, preparing to get them to the apartment in the next few days. He replies ever so politely. Dropping no hints. Not anymore. It’s almost infuriating how careful he is.

Even when they get to the part of the movie where Chat Noir fell asleep, Adrien seems oddly restless though, not concentrating on the movie at all. Marinette notices his eyes being unfocused, and before she can ask him what is wrong, he comes out with it himself.

“I’m sorry for the other day.”

“Sorry for what?”

“Talking about – when I told you all that nonsense. At the Seine. About that girl, and I just …”

“Oh. That.” She shrugs, playing with a strand of hair. “Don’t worry about it.”

“No, I don’t …” Adrien runs his fingers through his hair, and with something like disbelief, she notices that his fingers are shaking. “I was talking about no one. Really, no one in particular.”

“Okay?”

“So …” He strictly doesn’t look at her. “There’s no one. No other girl at all. It was just – hypothetical, it was hypothetical.”

There’s a shimmer of pink on his cheeks, and his jaw is set, and he is still staring at the TV, and slowly, oh so slowly it creeps up on her. Piece by piece falling into place until her heart is racing in her chest.

The thought is too much. So much that her body burns up. So much that the truth sits on her tongue. Would he say the same, knowing what she did? Would he say the same, knowing that she lied right to his face?

Does he know who she really is, and if not, what exactly is he falling for then?

She almost wants to cry as she keeps staring at him, and it takes some time until he looks away from the TV, the movie playing on in the background. Their eyes meet, concern shining in his. “Marinette? Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” she whispers.

“Was it – it was too weird, wasn’t it? I’m sorry, I …”

“Don’t worry. Really.” She tries to smile and fails. “I’ve also been tired lately. Unbelievably tired.”

And at least that is nothing but the truth.

He leaves in the night, with a little hug and a little smile, and she looks after him, heart bouncing in her chest.

She thinks she knows the answer now. As scary as it is, she does.


	8. Chapter 8

“I can’t believe it,” Alya breathes. “I can’t – after five years – it’s like watching your firstborn learn to walk.”

“Wow. What a simile.”

“What? It describes this situation perfectly, hun! Baby steps. Or rather, a deer falling flat on its face fifty times in a row before starting to walk.” Alya fans air at herself. “Gosh, I’m excited. Can I take photos? Videos?”

“No!” Marinette flares up. She clears her throat. “Please. Please, please don’t watch us. Please. I’ll text you how it went, okay?”

“And if you don’t text at all, you’re getting it on behind some bushes.”

“Alya!”

“Just kidding, just kidding.” She pats Marinette’s shoulders. “I’m very proud of you. Really, really proud. You can do it. And finally get this whole thing done with for good, no matter how it turns out.”

Marinette flinches. “At least I’d still have my Tinder account, huh?”

“And your …” Alya squints. “Fifty matches.”

“Nope.”

“Hundred.”

“Really now?”

“I don’t know? Two hundred?”

“No worries. You’ll probably find out anyway once I need a long, nice drinking evening with my bestie and a lot of red wine.” Marinette takes a deep breath. “All right. I’m ready.”

“Great.”

“So ready.” She nods. Shakes her head. “Oh god, no, abort mission, I’m not ready at all!”

“Welp, too late, because there they are.” Plastering on a broad smile, Alya waves at somewhere across the plaza. “Hey, babe! Here!”

Marinette only slowly turns around. But here he is. Adrien, having sat right next to her just two days ago. It’s still somehow too much. She feels her heart pound too hard. Still, she smiles when Nino and Adrien approach them, and she greets both of them with a kiss on the left cheek, a kiss on the right cheek.

“I’m in the mood for bubble tea,” Alya announces. “Who’s in?”

“Isn’t that really 2010?” says Marinette.

“Wow. Ouch. Seriously, girl.”

“I was just saying! But all right, bubble tea it is.”

As they saunter along the Seine, Marinette swallows three whole bobas accidentally, and Nino finds a way to use his own bobas as an effective missile, hitting his girlfriend with two of them. In return, Alya starts picking up dead leaves and throwing them at Nino. Marinette watches them, concentrating on her bubble tea intently, and when she feels Adrien’s eyes on her, she sends him a questioning glance.

“I’ve never seen someone drink bubble tea with such a determined look,” he tells her, smiling.

She swallows a whole bubble again. Coughing, she lets go of her straw. “And yet, I still can’t drink it properly.”

“It’s cute, though.” He is still smiling, but the shimmer of pink on his cheeks isn’t lost on her, and he looks away again quickly.

Feeling her whole face flame up, she stares at her bubble tea. “You’re too,” she mutters so quietly there’s no chance he heard her. Oh god, why is this so much easier with Chat? They are the same person, for god’s sake!

“Did you say something?”

She takes a breath. Doesn’t look up at him. “No. No, sorry.”

They turn back to Alya forming somehow actually useful missiles out of leaves, and Nino taking shelter behind one of the benches to escape her fierce attacks. It takes Marinette some time to realize they are at the exact same spot Adrien and she were at some long days ago, and her heart makes a wild jump. The memory is still so fresh that a lump builds in her throat. They share an awkward look before Marinette gets back to drinking her bubble tea.

“Uh, guys, bad news,” she hears Alya call to them. “But there’s a teenager-sitting emergency. My parents just texted me.”

“Oh.” Marinette doesn’t feel ready. But when will she ever?

“So sorry.” Half her bubble tea emptied, Alya approaches them, picking leaves out of her hair. Marinette moves to help her. “Would it be okay for Nino and me to go? I promise we’ll make up for it, okay?”

“Sure,” Adrien replies. “Don’t worry about us.”

“Yep! Good luck teenager-sitting.”

“We’ll need all the luck in the world with those two.” Alya rolls her eyes. “Okay then. See you both.” With the tiniest smile, Alya takes Marinette’s hand and squeezes it before turning around.

Nino waves at them from a distance as they walk away. And Marinette keeps standing where she is, frozen to a statue. How did Adrien do it? How did he just come out with the truth? How did he not falter and keep his mouth shut forever? How can he call her the bold one when really, she is the far bigger coward out of the two of them?

“So,” Adrien starts.

“So,” she offers too.

They look at each other. Turn to the Seine. The scene is so familiar that her heart is racing. Only that this time, she has some bubble tea in her hands which she dedicatedly starts to slurp, making sure to not swallow any more of her bobas. It works out fine. At least until there is nothing left in her plastic cup, and nervousness sets in again, hard and fast. After endless consideration, she realizes that she can’t run away forever, and she throws the cup into a nearby bin before joining Adrien’s side again.

So there they are, silently staring at the river.

“Ironic,” she mumbles.

“Ironic?” he asks.

Chat Noir, she reminds herself. Only Chat Noir. It helps to stare at the river instead of him as she talks, so she tries her best. “Well, just – do I have to prepare myself for another ramble about nameless hypothetical girls?”

A long second of silence. She almost thinks she has gone overboard, ready to apologize bashfully, when he replies. “You do that, and I prepare myself for the life-threatening mission of connecting a USB cable to its plug.”

She tries not to blush, and then, she tries not to laugh. “Don’t underestimate USB cables. You know, there is a legend that they are all cursed.”

“And that curse entails having to flip it over three times in order to successfully connect it. Am I right?”

“Only if you flip it after every unsuccessful attempt. That’s very important.”

“Oh, I almost forgot. Glad I’m prepared now.”

There. It isn’t so hard. That’s still Chat Noir with all his silliness. And when she turns to look at him, their eyes meeting, something like warmth trickles through her. They are still standing next to each other, the same polite distance as always, and she isn’t sure if she wants to keep standing where she is or move closer to him, just a bit closer, just to remind herself who she really owes the truth to.

Even if it’s scary.

But she has to. She has to. So she opens her mouth, forcing her voice out. “Adrien, actually –”

“Marinette, I –”

They both go silent again. Look at each other. She gestures for him to go first, cheeks turning red as she has to avert her gaze for a second.

His eyes take her in, shining with something she can’t quite name. “I just wanted to – there’s … Sorry if I wasn’t always there for you the past few years. Even though you were always there for me. It’s …” He exhales soundly. “Just, sorry if there are things I missed. I shouldn’t have.”

She feels taken aback as she stares at him. “I don’t know what … But you _were_ there for me?”

He laughs at her answer. “You really do have a good heart, Marinette. I mean it. I don’t deserve you.”

Familiar words. All of them. Her heart drops. He smiles at her, something fragile and easily breakable.

“I,” she tries. It gets stuck in her throat. “Adrien, I …”

“That was a bit much, huh?” He laughs bashfully, rubbing his neck. “Sorry. I just wanted you to know how important you are to me. In case you ever forget, you know?”

It really is too much. Her cheeks feel too warm. She knows the adoration in his voice. She knows it well enough, but still, it’s unreal.

“So, uh.” He takes one last look at her before turning to move on. “Up for a coffee? Or, are you hungry? I heard there’s a great place nearby, so …”

She could do it too. Move her feet, and follow him. Keep quiet again. Pretend nothing will ever change. Pretend it can all stay the same, forever. Never say it. Never find the courage. Keep him in the dark, and keep herself in the dark, too.

She isn’t sure how much longer she can do this.

The decision is made before she can say it, and when she does, her voice is only a meek whisper.

“Chat.”

For a torturously long second, she thinks he didn’t hear her. All her courage leaves her at once. But then he stops abruptly, his back still to her. She doesn’t know what to do. Her knees are suddenly too weak, and her breathing is too fast. There’s no room for doubts anymore. Not for her. But there is enough so for him, and she searches for her voice, tries and tries.

It’s all she can muster, though.

She isn’t prepared for the moment he turns around. She isn’t prepared for the way his face is mended into an expression of absolute innocence. Trying to pretend even though the walls should have fallen way too long ago. “I – sorry, what did you …?”

Oh god. She doesn’t know if she can do this. She just – it’s too much. Her hands clench to fists as she tries her hardest not to let her voice crack helplessly. “I know that … I know.”

His smile twitches just the tiniest bit. “Pardon?”

She can’t look him in the eye anymore. “You weren’t really discreet about it.”

Seconds of silence. The first hint of panic in his voice as he replies, steps separating them. “I – Marinette, listen. It was …” A nervous sound. She counts the pebbles lying in front of her shoes. “I shouldn’t have – oh god, I was being such an idiot, but –”

“You didn’t want to be on Tinder as Adrien Agreste, the model.”

A groan. She looks up to see him drag a hand over his face. “I … I just …”

“So you went on Tinder as –”

Hasty steps. Hands on her shoulders, warm and smothering. A breath gets stuck in her throat. Green, green eyes stare down at her, panic glittering behind them. “You can’t tell anyone. Please, Marinette, I trust you. But you can’t tell anyone, okay?”

She feels a shiver bore itself into her stomach. “Because your girl could find out that way?”

“That, too, and –”

“Maybe she already knows.”

The words left her in quivering words. The words left her as tears start stinging in her eyes. Adrien keeps looking at her. The grip on her shoulders loosens. She doesn’t know if his panic is replaced by the tiniest shimmer of hope, or by a carefulness that hurts in her own chest.

She can’t continue. Her tongue becomes heavy and useless. She can’t, and in her stead, Adrien takes over again.

“How would she?” he asks, looking at her, looking at her so intensely she wants to turn away. She isn’t getting any air. Breath quickening, she escapes his grasp. Bringing distance between them again. Fiddling her fingers, her mind numb, her knees shaking.

Out with it. Just out with it. Because she owes it to him. She really does.

“The other night. When you asked me what I’m scared of, you remember?”

He doesn’t react. Doesn’t move, arms helplessly having dropped to his sides. It’s scary. But maybe it’s better this way. Maybe it’s finally time to face anything she’s so afraid of. So she takes a breath, tries to calm her heart, tries not to break apart right this moment.

“You were right. I’m scared.” Her voice is too quiet, but she can’t say it any louder. “I’m scared how much it could change. I’m scared – I’m scared it’s a mistake.” It streams out of her mouth, it makes tears form in her eyes, and he is still unmoving, but she can’t stop. Not anymore. “I’m scared that you’ll never forgive me for lying to you. I’m scared that I’m not who you want. I’m scared that you’ll be so disappointed that you’ll just leave. I’m scared, okay? I’m so scared. That everything will change, and that things can never be the same again, and that we’ll regret it. I’m scared I can’t be enough for you. I’m scared of letting you down. I’m scared that I made a mistake. That all you can see forever is a liar now. That I hurt you. That I hurt you so bad you will never forgive me. I’m so, so scared …” Her voice becomes quiet and shaky. “I’m – I’m so scared of losing you.”

Her breathing is too fast. She is feeling dizzy, and it takes her endlessly long to realize the tears have spilled over. She wipes them from her cheeks, buries her face in her hands. A sob shakes her body.

“I’m so sorry, Adrien,” she croaks. “Please believe me. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have lied to you, but I didn’t – I didn’t know that to do, and it all became a mess, and I … I’m …”

She wants to sink into herself, but instead, she keeps standing where she is, waiting for him to sneer at her or leave her forever or tell her what a stupid idiot she really is.

And then his voice reaches her, fragile and warm, a little thing that shakes her to her very core.

“It’s you. It really is you, is it?”

She can’t look up. Can’t do anything but suppress another sob. “I’m so sorry.”

“No. No, I …” A faint breath of a voice. “Remember what I told you? That I hoped it’d be you? I meant it. I really did.”

It’s all wrong. It’s all so wrong that she feels her body shiver violently.

“I deceived you. I lied to you!” she brings out. Presses her palms harder against her eyes, sees stars dancing before blackness. “You still – you still hope it was me? Your partner, who lied to you that easily? You still think I’m that perfect? That I have a good heart? I don’t, Adrien, I …”

Steps in front of her. Fingers softly touching the back of her hands, pulling them away, holding on for a second longer. She is still staring at the ground though, staring at the tips of Adrien’s shoes in front of her. Her chest is heaving with her chipped breaths.

“Look at me, Marinette. Please.”

He sounds gentle, and kind, and she knows that she’ll have to face the music sooner or later. So she tentatively looks up. Her nose is running, and her lips are quivering, and she must look like the most pitiful, ugly creature in this world. But when she finally dares look at him, Adrien’s eyes are full of unbelievable awe, and his fingers catch tears from her cheeks with such tenderness that her heart thumps wildly in her chest. He isn’t supposed to look like this. He is supposed to be angry at her, and disappointed, and in disbelief. It doesn’t make sense. It just doesn’t make any sense.

“So I did get it right,” he whispers, the tiniest smile on his lips.

She stares at him, his warm hand leaving her skin, the loss enough to make her sob again. “I … From the beginning. I lied to you. I …” She sees him shift, and sudden panic takes hold of her whole body as she blindly reaches for his hand. When she realizes how stupid she is being, she jerks her hand back again, though.

“And still, I won. Didn’t I?” he responds quietly.

It takes her second to realize that his eyes are glazed over too. The sight shakes her body. He isn’t angry, it dawns on her. After everything. After making him doubt himself. After her hiding away like a coward, and his lack of any ire makes her so furious that her cheeks turn as hot as her tears.

“Why aren’t you mad at me?” It should have been a hiss, and it comes out as a meek whimper instead. “You should be mad at me. You should be!”

But all he does is stare at her with watery eyes, with such simple adoration that everything inside her flutters. “Marinette …”

“I deceived you. All this time. How can you not be mad at me? How can you –”

Warm hands returning to her cheeks. He is so close that she feels like melting under his palms. For an endlessly long moment, she thinks he is going to kiss her. Kiss all her doubts, her fears, her regrets away just like that. And she would have let him. But instead, he carefully drags his thumbs over her cheeks, his smile still tiny and warm.

“All that matters is that it’s you. It’s you, Marinette. You.” He exhales so shakily that her own heart is quivering. “And you’re trusting me enough to finally tell me. After all this time. After everything that happened. You trust me.”

Softly, she shakes her head, searching just for a hint on something in his green eyes. “Be mad at me. Please.”

A faint, airy laugh, full of desperation, full of renewed hope. She can hardly react as arms wrap around her, pulling her impossibly close. A new sob shakes her. She buries her face on his shoulder, not caring about the fact that she is probably going to ruin his coat.

“You’re not going to lose me,” his fragile voice reaches her. “Never. I promise, okay? You won’t.”

“Adrien,” she presses out, shaking hands clutching at him in an attempt not to fall apart on the spot. “I’m … Please forgive me. Please.”

“I do. I forgive you.” Softly, he strokes the back of her head, his warm breath on her temple. “Just please don’t cry, Marinette. I can’t stand to see you like this.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

“Adrien, I’m so …”

“Marinette. It’s okay. I’ve got you, okay? I’ve got you.”

She presses herself closer to him, feeling tears well up anew, his words soothing her heart in the most beautiful way she could have ever imagined.

It’s embarrassing. She shouldn’t have broken down like this, she thinks as she stares into the mirror, her eyes puffy and red. She should have handled this like an adult. She was ready to be heartbroken, she really was, and the moment he accepted her, everything of her, just like that, without batting an eyelid …

Her heart is still beating too fast.

Marinette takes a deep breath and exits the bathroom. Before she joins Adrien on the sofa, she hears a silent conversation, and she stops at the doorframe, leaning against it as she watches blonde hair being mused by nervous fingers.

“There’s a concept called Freudian slip, and I do think that’s what happened here,” Tikki’s high-pitched voice reaches her ears.

“What, Sugarcube became a fully-fledged therapist all of a sudden?” A ball of black floats in front of Adrien’s face, joined by Tikki in a matter of seconds.

“Don’t call me – no, I am not. Contrary to you, I’m keeping a very watchful eye on human behavior, that’s all!”

Adrien laughs. The sound makes Marinette’s stomach do a funny flip. “Ladybug giving Chat Noir a superlike of her own accord? Right.”

His tone causes Marinette to bite her lip. That’s what he still thinks, huh?

“No!” Tikki flares up. “I mean – yes! A Freudian slip implies that the other party –”

“I think he knows what you mean, Sugarcube. Can’t say it wasn’t amusing, though. ’Cause what did your cute protégé call my kiddo? A fuck-”

“Don’t!” Tikki squeals. “I only told you because you wouldn’t stop pestering me about details!”

“She called me what?” Adrien chimes in.

Okay. Okay, too much. Marinette coughs very inconspicuously. At that, both kwamis and Adrien turn to her.

“Guess that’s our cue, Tikki. We’ve got ourselves a little eavesdropper here.” Plagg is looking in Marinette’s direction, eyes narrowing as he gives her a cheeky smile. She tries not to blush. “Nice to meet you again, Marinette.”

Adrien smiles at her, rolling his eyes. “He kept talking a lot about you, you know.”

“Sure did. Really kept my kiddo here on his paws, didn’t you, Ladybug?” Snickering, Plagg floats towards the ceiling. “Sugarcube. There’s some details we really gotta talk about.”

“I’m _not_ going to create a farm specializing on camembert production and build it up to become the world’s most renowned cheese factory in a matter of three to four decades, Plagg. Even if I lost the bet.”

“Aw, you’re so boring. But did you really think your goody two-shoes would let the cat out of the bag first?”

“I learned a lot about rhetorical questions. Was that one?”

“Oh man. You can be handful, Tikki.”

The two kwamis disappear for good. All that is left are her and Adrien, and a weird kind of silence between them.

“I made you some tea?” Adrien offers as he gestures to the steaming cups in front of him. “I guessed you’d like peppermint.”

She feels herself blush up to her hairline. “How do you do that?”

“Do what?” He blinks innocently at her.

“Know all those details about me. It’s …”

“Like, the fact that plain croissants are your favorite pastry?” He grins at her. “As plain as they can get?”

Groaning, Marinette rubs the bridge of her nose before coming closer, flopping down onto the sofa. Again, polite distance. This time, his eyes don’t seem to let go of her though, and she shrugs helplessly. “I’m – I panicked. I’m sorry.”

His smile softens. “You remember when we fought that akuma that turned everything pink?”

“The one that even turned your suit into a glittery pink one? Yep, I actually liked that one.”

“Exactly. You said you wouldn’t mind leaving everything like it is. That’s how I guessed your favorite color. Just made the most sense.”

It’s odd. Hearing him talk about what should be their other lives. Her eyes dart over his face, trying to see the similarities. She remembers that one kiss they shared, that one kiss so long ago, one he can’t even remember. Suddenly and without warning, she finds herself dying to taste his lips again.

“And the tea?” he continues. She flinches, eyes meeting again, and she hopes to god he didn’t notice her staring. “I just saw your three packages of peppermint tea in your cupboard. That’s all.”

“Oh,” she breathes. “Very perceptive.”

A grin builds on his lips. “Thank you, my lady. I’m doing my best.”

The term of endearment makes a shudder climb over her back. “Guess I wasn’t always that careful as Ladybug, huh?”

“You were very careful. But nothing escapes my watchful eye if it’s regarding the girl I love.”

She jumps. Looks at him. It was always a simple truth. Chat loves her, and she can’t love him back. It was always easy, and safe. The feeling of falling is scary, but so freeing she wants to laugh. Her face is burning up as their eyes meet, and he quickly looks away from her, clearing his throat.

“I’m sorry. This – I know you’re trying to – well, you told me – ah, you know.”

“I know what?” she asks, watching him take his cup into nervous hands.

“You know.” He doesn’t look at her, blowing steam away. “Because you’re, uh, trying to … trying to get over me.”

Oh. She doesn’t know what to do with her hands. With her voice. With her words. She sinks into her corner of the sofa, bending her knees and drawing them closer to her body. To think that all this time – just all this time – and as she watches him staring at his cup, a slight shimmer of joyless amusement on his face, something stirs in her, violently and fiercely.

He sighs deeply. “I’m sorry. I should have noticed sooner.”

She wraps her arms around her knees, looking at anything but him. “I – oh god, this is so embarrassing,” she groans as she hides her face away.

“For me? Yes, it is. _I_ am the idiot of the story.”

She bites her lip, still unable to look at him. “I told you. You are not an idiot for … for, um. Not seeing me in the same light.”

A long second of silence. Then he laughs shakily.

“I really thought this was about Luka.”

“What was?”

“Well, the … the Tinder thing.”

At that, she sharply lifts her head. “You thought I needed to get over Luka?”

“With how close you seem …”

She blinks. “That’s why – is that why you – you wanted to …”

“I wanted you to be happy. I _want_ you to be happy. That’s all.”

It’s not like she ever gave Adrien another impression. Or like she ever told him what she really feels. He was blind to it, and she kept quiet. It was stupid. And all for what? Looking at him now, knowing that he adores her that much, just for what? Because the height seemed too scary? Because all of it could have fallen apart?

Somehow, it’s so stupid that it’s not even funny anymore. So she takes a breath and finds her courage.

“You told me something. Back at the Seine. When you tried to – when you told me – you said you fell for me all over again.”

He gives a bashful laugh. “Too straightforward, huh? I’m sorry.”

“You were – were you serious?”

His amusement dies down, but he still doesn’t glance at her. It’s the only response she needs.

Marinette pauses. Looks at him. Really looks at him. He saw her so easily. He fell into it with all his heart. Risked it all just because he believed in it, and in her. It doesn’t make sense. It doesn’t make sense that he forgives her, just like this. That he accepts her fears, and her selfishness, and accepts her just like she is. With all her flaws, with every little thing that might hold her back, and her heart is bursting as she slides closer. Closer, closer, bridging always polite distance, familiarity giving her the courage she needs. Until he looks up in confusion, until she grabs his face, until she realizes there is nothing much she can give him back. Nothing but herself.

So she kisses him.

When she pulls back, she is met by widened green eyes, by a wonder that makes her shiver. Her breath is quivering as she leans in again, but before their lips can meet, he utters a hectic, “Wait.”

Marinette lets go of him as if having burned her hands on his warm skin. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to –”

His cup clatters as he puts it back on the table so hastily tea sloshes over the rim. But before she can complain, his hands are on his cheeks, and his lips crash against hers. She gives a sound as the sudden momentum makes her fall back, and she lands on the sofa, Adrien following shortly behind. Finding purchase on either side of her face, he stares at her from above, wide-eyed.

“Are you okay? Sorry, I –”

She can’t help it. She has to laugh, nervous energy making it hard to control herself as she wraps her arms around his neck. “I’m okay. Very okay.”

Before he can answer, she pulls him towards her again until their lips meet. He gives a noise that makes her shiver, a hand stroking her cheek softly. Urgency melts into tenderness, and they shift until they lie side by side, pressed close on the narrow sofa, the feeling of his body against hers entirely new and familiar all the same.

“Maybe,” she whispers between kisses, her nose brushing his, “I, too, fell for you all over again.”

He laughs against her lips, pressing another kiss against them, his hands sliding from her cheeks until they wind around her waist. “Fell for my charm, princess?”

“I fell for your unnecessary posters.” Rolling her eyes, she leans back again, her hands on his shoulder. “I mean, seriously? Your system didn’t even make sense.”

Adrien blinks at her, wide-eyed and innocent. “It made perfect sense! If you would have played fair …”

At that, she looks away. “I … I know. I …”

“No. No, sorry, I didn’t …” Warm hands softly guide her to look at him again. He grins at her, eyes glowing. “Still managed to get it right despite that, didn’t I? Aren’t I the cat’s meow?”

She stares at him. Laughs. Oh god, she adores him. God, she does. She does so much that she feels like crying again. “You’re such a dork,” she whispers instead, voice quivering, her sight becoming blurry.

Her reaction seems to make him almost panic, and he strokes her cheek with hasty fingers. “A good dork, I hope? Right? Or a stupid dork who needs to apologize again?”

“A very good dork,” she replies, “who really needs a lesson on how Tinder is supposed to work.”

Her words conjure a smile on his lips. “Having you right here,” he says, leaning forward until his forehead can rest against hers, “do you really think I’d need one ever again?”

Her heart is bursting, just like that. She has to close her eyes for a second. “Oh, my kitty. You’re way too much.”

He exhales shakily. “Your kitty.”

“My,” she lets her lips brush his, “perfect,” she kisses the corner of his mouth, “adorable,” she kisses the other corner of his mouth, “wonderful,” she kisses his lips, “beautiful …”

She can’t go on as hands tangle in her hair, softly pulling her closer until his lips taste hers, tentatively, carefully. It’s unreal, knowing who she is kissing. It doesn’t make sense, and it always did. It’s scary, but the best thing that could happen to her. It feels full of tiny beautiful specks, of little feelings dancing through her stomach. No one could ever know her like he does. No one could catch her every time like he would. No one but him. It’s him. It has never been anyone but him.

“Don’t.”

Something holds on to her T-shirt before she can even attempt to climb out of the bed. When she turns her head, she sees Adrien lazily blinking at her, a cat being comfortable under the sheets, unwilling to let her go. She smiles at him, sliding closer again to press a kiss against his forehead, and in response, he purrs as his arms wind around her.

“I have to pee,” she whispers to him.

“You don’t.”

“I really do.”

“No,” he whines, burying his face in the crook of her neck. “I won’t let you go.”

“You’re so silly,” she laughs, inhaling his intoxicating scent. The heat of his body against hers. The morning sun is already kissing his hair, drenching it in golden light. “I’m glad you never gave one of those girls a chance. They’d have rather kicked each other’s teeth out than letting you get away from them, I bet.”

His grip tightens a bit. “So you _were_ jealous.”

She lets out a huff. “After you were so nice to any girl on there? No matter how horribly they treated you? I wasn’t jealous. I was worried.”

“You’re cute when you’re being jealous, my lady.”

“I told you – I wasn’t jealous!”

“Mm-hmm.” He chuckles against her skin. The vibrating sound makes her stomach tingle. Wet lips press against her neck, sending a spark of electricity through her whole body. “I wanted to kiss you so bad. That night I fell asleep on your chaise. You looked so beautiful, blushing all over. God, I think that was the moment it really hit me. How much I wanted you to be the girl I loved for so long.”

How can he say that so easily? Her heart flutters, and she needs endless seconds to even form a syllable on her useless tongue. That is, until his lips wander further, careful fingers shoving the fabric of her shirt out of the way to kiss her collarbone.

“Say,” he mumbles. “When was that moment for you? When you saw my pictures on Tinder and couldn’t resist matching with me?”

She releases a quivering breath as a warm hand sneaks under her shirt. “Don’t be so smug, kitty.”

Fingertips dance over her back. She shivers, her hand finding on purchase on his arm as his kisses wander to her shoulder. “Or when you started texting me, never letting me wait for a reply for too long?”

“Adrien,” she says warningly, even though his hand on her naked waist is doing strange, wonderful things to her head.

“Or when you kept glaring at those girls’ pictures as if you wanted to rip all of them to shreds?”

Okay. That’s enough. She pushes him away as she wiggles out of the sheets, ignoring how he tries to hold her back once more. “I have to pee, and while I’m away, you will be a good kitten and think about how absolutely uncalled for your teasing is.”

He looks after her, a smirk on his way too handsome face, hair mused and the sheet barely concealing his naked upper body. “As if you could resist me for too long, bugaboo.”

She hates that he is right.

“Wow. I can’t believe some girls would voluntarily superlike you.”

“Yeah. Maybe all of them would chalk it up to an accident.”

From the door of her room, she glares at him. “It was an accident.”

A cough. “Sure. Exactly what your kwami said, too.”

“Tikki is just trying to be funny, that’s all!”

“Yup, totally.”

The need to pee is stronger than the urge to get that infuriating grin off his face, so she only keeps glaring at him. “This isn’t over, Agreste.”

“Counting on it, pretty princess.”

God damn it. Chat and his freaking smugness. It’s a side of Adrien she never saw, those hungrily glowing eyes and that little grin sitting on his lips, and god. She can’t get enough of it.

Quickly, she opens the door to the living room. Alya still hasn’t brought all her stuff here, and Adrien and her should be alone in the apartment, as far as she knows – until she taps into the hallway, discovering that the front door is opened and that several boxes are stacked there.

She didn’t even hear that from her own room. Goddamn thick walls.

“Marinette!” Alya calls from outside the apartment, putting another box down. “Didn’t know you were sleeping here. Sorry, did we wake you –” Then her eyes land on something on Marinette’s neck, and her jaw goes slack. “Girl.”

Nervousness makes Marinette’s hair stand on end as she slaps a hand over her neck. “W-what?”

“Why didn’t you text me that you would be …” Helplessly, Alya gesticulates in the general direction of Marinette’s room. “You just told me everything is _fine_! I thought you’d awkwardly go on a date or something, not jump right into it! Oh god, I would have left you – you should have told me!”

“Alya!” Marinette hisses back. “We didn’t – we just – we made out! Nothing more than that, only smoochage, a lot of nice smoochage, I swear!”

Alya lifts her eyebrows. “Yeah. I can see _that_.”

“I – I have to –” With a stiff grin, Marinette slides away, eventually locking herself into the toilet. When she peeks into the mirror, she sees the reason for Alya’s quick understanding. There is an enormous, blueish hickey right on her neck. Great.

And as soon as she sits down on the toilet and glances at her legs for a moment, she startles. Numerous blue marks are covering her pale skin, she discovers as dread is forming in her chest.

She suppresses the very strong, very pressing urge to scream her lungs out.

Okay. No biggie. She’ll just inconspicuously sneak back into her room and tear Adrien a new one. There, and every problem solved just like that. Her shorts don’t really cover the marks at all, and she has absolutely nothing to hide them with, but she can manage. It’s totally all right.

So she cautiously opens the door. No one in sight. Great. She slowly steps into the living room, aware of her surroundings. Nothing is happening. Nothing but the cluttering of her cupboard, and when she turns her head, she sees Adrien pulling out a mug.

Steps in the hallway. Panic mode sets in. “Duck!” she hisses.

“What?” Adrien turns around. “Where?”

“No! I mean, down!” At his confused look, she decidedly slams her hands on the kitchen island. “Now!”

He listens. Finally. And not a moment too late, it turns out, because when she whirls around again, none other than Luka is carrying one of the boxes into Alya’s room. With the confidence of a goddess, Marinette stumbles behind the kitchen island to hide her marks, sending Luka a very natural smile. Their eyes meet, and his eyebrows shoot up in surprise.

“Good morning, Marinette. We thought you wouldn’t be here, sorry.”

“Yep, spontaneous decision, you know. I just –”

His eyes are on her neck. Only for a second, before he smiles a little and moves on. “I see. Spontaneous.”

Shit. Her cheeks turn so hot she is slowly starting to overheat, and she slaps a hand over the hickey again. “It’s not what it looks like!” she calls after him, and when he doesn’t react at all, she gives a desperate sound and crouches, hidden from any pair of curious eyes.

And face to face with the fiend himself.

“Are you serious?” she hisses, pointing at her neck, then at her thighs. “Was that really necessary?”

His eyes slowly wander over her body, down to her legs. The look alone is sending a hot wave through her. He regards the marks he left with something like odd pride. Their eyes meet again after endless seconds, and he noticeably tries to smother his smirk, his expression speaking of endless innocence.

“Woops. Accident,” he whispers back. “Just like your superlike, I guess.”

Her body feels way too hot. “Adrien, I swear to god –”

“Well, you gotta admit – didn’t sound like you didn’t enjoy it, pretty princess.”

She is overheating entirely. “And telling me I can’t leave any marks on you!” She tries to smother her voice down to a whisper, huddling closer to him. “You’re being a bastard, and you know it.”

“To be fair,” he leans closer, his voice breaking over her lips, “if I had known the others would be here today …”

“You would have had mercy on me?”

He chuckles as he presses a kiss against her lips. And just like that, she is melting entirely, a little sigh escaping her. “Regarding the hickeys, maybe. The rest, though …”

“Don’t think this is over,” she mutters, her fingers reaching up to rake through his hair. “You’ll pay for this.”

“I’m already quivering in anticipation, my –”

She kisses him roughly, about to climb his lap and rile him up in the best way she knows how, when she suddenly feels his hands on her shoulders pushing her back. Confused, she moves away. When she looks at Adrien, she sees him blinking at something above them, and only slowly and mechanically, she turns her head.

So, while they are huddled against the kitchen counter on the cold tile floor, three pairs of eyes watch them from the kitchen island, leaning against it with their eyebrows raised.

“It’s not what it looks like,” Luka echoes her words.

Marinette blinks. “Uh. Yep.”

“Two minutes and seven seconds until you noticed you’re not really being subtle nor quiet, my dudes.” Nino shakes his head, tapping against his wristwatch while he’s at it.

“What a surprise,” Alya drawls. “So, if you’re finished getting it on on our kitchen floor, you could maybe help us out?”

Quickly, Marinette scrambles off Adrien, showing her best smile. When she notices that everyone could have a glance at her thighs that way, she hides behind Adrien, still smiling. Even though his cheeks are just as red as hers feel. “Sure thing! Gladly! Absolutely!”

Luka’s eyes shine with amusement as he moves away. “Told him to help you with the lightbulbs, hm?”

“HDMI cable,” Adrien coughs.

Luka coughs too. “Wow.”

With an eyeroll, Alya finally leaves them be. She drags Nino with her. “Please don’t tell me you’ll have a go at it every single evening from now on. For my birthday, I want quality earplugs. Maybe even designer ones. Use your connections, hot stuff.”

“No worries,” Adrien returns, helping Marinette up to her feet. As he replies, he is giving Marinette a little smile. Her whole face is burning up. “I’ll have my own place soon anyway.”

“Hey, sunshine. Don’t you dare take my bestie away after we just barely moved in together, you hear me?”

“Great,” Nino sighs. “Now his sudden swooning will get even worse. You know I love you, bro, but if I gotta hear one more time how cute Marinette looks when she fumbles for words …”

Marinette blushes so hard she feels like fainting. “You said – when?”

“Oh, you never wondered why Adrien suddenly had enough free time to help us almost every day when he’s usually such a busy model?” Alya grins at them over the box she is carrying. “Yeah. Weird, right?”

She stares. Then she whirls her head around, discovering Adrien rubbing his neck, pointedly evading her gaze. It takes her a while to verbalize it, but when she does, a mixture of amusement and disbelief colors her voice.

“You were crushing on me,” she realizes.

“Well, I just …” He ducks his head. “I told you that I … There was a reason I hoped …”

Her heart bounces in her chest. She grabs his hand, softly tugging him along as she hurries to her room. “We’ll be right back!” she calls over her shoulder, ignoring Nino’s amused grin and Alya’s deep sigh.

“Just keep it down, children,” she tells them.

“We’ll put in some very loud Ariana Grande for you,” Luka joins in, amusement apparent in his voice.

Marinette doesn’t pay them any attention. She shuts the door behind her, then turns around to Adrien. His cheeks are still red, and he fidgets a bit on the spot, and it’s somehow so adorable that she can’t help but gently take ahold of his face, guiding him to look at her. Green eyes she could get lost in, returning her look.

“All that talk about not deserving me,” she whispers, dragging her thumbs over his skin, “and in truth, I am the one who doesn’t deserve you.”

He gulps. Leans into her touch. “You know that’s not true.”

“Adrien …” The words collect on her tongue, needing to get out, needing to reach him. “You’re kind, and so considerate, and you always try to do the right thing, and – you know … If it wasn’t for you, Chat Noir would have swept me off my feet sooner or later anyway.”

He laughs, closing his eyes as she keeps caressing his skin. “You think so?”

“With how wonderful and thoughtful he is … With how he tries to respect people as much as he can …” She kisses the tip of his nose, making him smile. The sight makes her heart burst. “With how Ladybug is an absolute idiot for never giving him a chance, even though she didn’t even deserve his adoration …”

“See, that’s not the truth either.”

“It is,” she breathes. “She doesn’t deserve you.” Before he can protest, she gives him a chaste kiss. “I don’t deserve you.” Another kiss on the corner of his mouth. “God, I really don’t. I …”

Before she can go on, his lips find hers. Again, again, until she becomes almost breathless. His forehead meets hers. “And if I had known …” He pauses.

“That I’m Ladybug?”

A little smile forms on his lips. “That you, Marinette, of all people want to be with me …”

Her heart flutters. She lets her hands slide to his hair, presses a kiss to his cheek, moves to his ear. “Then what?”

“Then,” his arms wrap around her, holding her as tightly as possible, “Ladybug would have had to deal with some serious competition.”

She kisses his cheek again. Can’t smother the smile on her lips anymore. “I bet she wouldn’t have liked that very much.”

“You think she would have been jealous?”

“And how.”

“Glad she doesn’t have to be,” he says, and turns his head until he can kiss her for good.

And to think she was afraid of falling –

Being in Adrien’s arms, she has never felt more secure, more complete in all her life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And it’s finally done!
> 
> Thank you all so much for your continuous support. Every single kudo, bookmark, comment, and subscription means a lot to me, and I hope you had just as much fun reading this as I had writing it. Your wonderful feedback really kept me going.
> 
> I love talking to all of you, so if anyone is on the MLB fanworks discord, you can find me there – feel free to send me a message anytime!
> 
> Happy holidays to you all!


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